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LAYS 



OF 



The Scottish Cavaliers 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



BY 



WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN, D.C.L., 

Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in the 
University of Kdmburgk. 



NEW EDITION. 




KEW YORK: 

R. WORTHINGTON, 750 Broadway. 

LONDON : F. WARNE & CO. 

1878, 



THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

ARCHIBALD WILLIAM MONTGOMERIE 
iarl of Cglmglon anir Mintoit, %M., 

THE PATRIOTIC AND NOBLE REPRESENTATIVE OF AN 
ANCIENT SCOTTISH RACE, 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBEr 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

PAGE 

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 7 

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE . 26 

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE 43 

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE 57 

THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE 78 

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS 92 

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES no 

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER 146 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

BLIND OLD MILTON 159 

HERMOTIMUS 166 

CENONE 175 

THE BURIED FLOWER 179 

THE OLD CAMP 188 

DANUBE AND THE EUXINE 191 

THE SCHEIK OF SINAI 194 

EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE KANARIS 199 

THE REFUSAL OF CHARON 200 

APPENDIX. 

EXAMINATION OF THE STATEMENTS IN MR. MAC- 
AULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, REGARDING. 
JOHN GRAHAME OF CLAVERHOUSE, VISCOUNT 
OF DUNDEE 202 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 



The great battle of Flodden was fought upon the 9th of 
September, 1513- The defeat of the Scottish army, result- 
ing mainly from the fantastic ideas of chivalry entertained 
by James IV., and his refusal to avail himself of the nat- 
ural advantages of his position, was by far the most dis- 
astrous of any recounted in the history of the northern 
wars. The whole strength of the kingdom, both Lowland 
and Highland, was assembled, and the contest was one of 
the sternest and most desperate upon record. 

For several hours the issue seemed doubtful. On the 
left the Scots obtained a decided advantage ; on the right 
wing they were broken and overthrown ; and at last the 
whole weight of the battle was brought into the centre, 
where King James and the Earl of Surrey commanded in 
person. The determined valor of James, imprudent as 
it was, had the effect of rousing to a pitch of desperation 
the courage of the meanest soldiers ; and the ground be- 
coming soft and slippery from blood, they pulled off their 
boots and shoes and secured a firmer footing by fighting 
in their hose. 

" It is owned," says Abercromby, " that both parties 
did wonders, but none on either side performed more than 
the King himself. He was again told that, by coming to 
handy blows, he could do no more than another man, 



8 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

whereas, by keeping the post due to his station, he might 
be worth many thousands. Yet he would not only fight 
in person, but also on foot ; for he no sooner saw that 
body of the English give way which was defeated by the 
Earl of Huntly, but he alighted from his horse, and com- 
manded his guard of noblemen and gentlemen to do the 
like and follow him. He had at first abundance of 
success ; but at length the Lord Thomas Howard and Sir 
Edward Stanley, who had defeated their opposites, coming 
in with the Lord Dacre's horse, and surrounding the King's 
battalion on all sides, the Scots were so distressed that, 
for their last defence, they cast themselves into a ring ; 
and, being resolved to die nobly with their sovereign, who 
scorned to ask quarter, were altogether cut ofif. So say 
the English writers, and I am apt to believe that they are 
in the right." 

The combat was maintained with desperate fury until 
nightfall. At the close, according to Mr. Tytler, " Surrey 
was uncertain of the result of the battle : the remains of 
the enemy's centre still held the field ; Home, with his 
Borderers, still hovered on the left ; and the commander 
wisely allowed neither pursuit nor plunder, but drew off 
his men, aiid kept a strict watch during the night. When 
the morning broke, the Scottish artillery were seen stand- 
ing deserted on the side of the hill : their defenders had 
disappeared ; and the earl ordered thanks to be given for 
a victory which was no longer doubtful. Yet even after 
all this, a body of the Scots appeared unbroken upon a hill, 
and were about to charge the Lord Admiral, when they were 
compelled to leave their position by a discharge of the 
English ordnance. 

" The loss of the Scots in this fatal battle amounted to 
about ten thousand men. Of these a great proportion 
were of high rank ; the remainder being composed of the 
gentry, the farmers and landed yeomanry, who disdained 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 9 

to fly when their sovereign and his nobles lay stretched in 
heaps around them." Besides King James, there fell at 
Flodden the Archbishop of St. Andrews, thirteen earls, 
two bishops, two abbots, fifteen lords and chiefs of clans, 
and five peers' eldest sons, besides La Motte the French 
ambassador, and the secretary of the King. The same 
historian adds — " The names of the gentry who fell are too 
numerous for recapitulation, since there were few families 
of note in Scotland which did not lose one relative or 
another, whilst some houses had to weep the death of all. 
It is from this cause that the sensations of sorrow and 
national lamentation occasioned by the defeat were pecu- 
liarly poignant and lasting — so that to this day few Scots- 
men can hear the name of Flodden without a shudder of 
gloomy regret." 

The loss to Edinburgh on this occasion was peculiarly 
great. All the magistrates and able-bodied citizens had 
followed their King to Flodden, whence very few of them 
returned. The office of Provost or chief magistrate of the 
capital was at that time an object of ambition, and was 
conferred only upon persons of high rank and station. 
There seems to be some uncertainty whether the holder of 
this dignity at the time of the battle of Flodden was 
Sir Alexander Lauder, ancestor of the Fountainhall family, 
who was elected in 15 11, or that great historical personage, 
Archibald Earl of Angus, better known as Archibald Bell- 
the-Cat, who was chosen in 15 13, the year of the battle. 
Both of them were at Flodden. The name of Sir Alexan- 
der Lauder appears upon the list of the slain. Angus was 
one of the survivors : but his son George, Master of Angus, 
fell fighting gallantly by the side of King James. The 
city records of Edinburgh, which commence about this 
period, are not clear upon the point, and I am rather in- 
clined to think that the Earl of Angus was elected to sup- 
ply the place of Lauder. But although the actual magis- 



lo LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

trates were absent, they had formally nominated deputies 
in their stead. I find, on referring to the city records, 
that " George of Tours " had been appointed to officiate in 
the absence of the Provost, and that four other persons 
were selected to discharge the office of bailees until the 
magistrates should return. 

It is impossible to describe the consternation which per- 
vaded the whole of Scotland when the intelligence of the 
defeat became known. In Edinburgh it was excessive. 
Mr. Arnot, in the history of that city, says — 

" The news of their overthrow in the field of Flodden 
reached Edinburgh on the day after the battle, and over- 
whelmed the inhabitants with grief and confusion. The 
streets were crowded with women seeking intelligence 
about their friends, clamoring and weeping. Those who 
officiated in absence of the magistrates proved themselves 
worthy of the trust. They issued a proclamation, order- 
ing all the inhabitants to assemble in military array for de- 
fence of the city, on the tolling of the bell ; and command- 
ing, ' that all women, and especially strangers, do repair to 
their work, and not be seen upon the street damorand 
and cry and ; and that women of the better sort do repair 
to the church and offer up prayers, at the stated hours, 
for our Sovereign Lord and his army, and the townsmen, 
who are with the army.' " 

Indeed, the Council records bear ample evidence of the 
emergency of that occasion. Throughout the earlier pages, 
the word " Flowdoun " frequently occurs on the margin, 
in reference to various hurried orders for arming and de- 
fence ; and there can be no doubt that, had the English 
forces attempted to follow up their victory, and attack the 
Scottish capital, the citizens would have resisted to the 
last. But it soon became apparent that the loss sustained 
by the English was so severe, that Surrey was in no con- 
dition to avail himself of the opportunity ; and in fact, 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLO D DEN. n 

shortly afterwards, he was compelled to disband his 
army. 

The references to the city banner contained in the fol- 
lowing poem, may require a word of explanation. It is a 
standard still held in great honor and reverence by the 
burghers of Edinburgh, having been presented to them by 
James III., in return for their loyal service in 1482. This 
banner, along with that of the Earl Marischal, still conspic- 
uous in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates, was hon- 
orably brought back from Flodden, and certainly never 
could have been displayed in a more memorable field. 
Maitland says, with reference to this very interesting relic 
of antiquity — 

" As a perpetual remembrance of the loyalty and bravery 
of the Edinburghers on the aforesaid occasion, the King 
granted them a banner or standard, with a power to dis- 
play the same in defence of their king, country, and their 
own rights. This flag is kept by the Convener of the 
Trades ; at whose appearance therewith, it is said that not 
only the artificers of Edinburgh are obliged to repair to it, 
but all the artisans or craftsmen within Scotland are 
bound to follow it, and fight under the Convener of Edin- 
burgh as aforesaid." 

No event in Scottish history ever took a more lasting 
hold of the public mind than the " woful fight " of Flod- 
den ; and, even now, the songs and traditions which are cur- 
rent on the Border recall the memory of a contest unsul- 
lied by disgrace, though terminating in disaster and defeat. 




EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 



News of battle ! — news of battle ! 

Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street : 
And the archways and the pavement 

Bear the clang of hurrying feet. 
News of battle ! who hath brought it ? 

News of triumph ? Who should brin^ 
Tidings from our noble array, 

Greetings from our gallant King ? 
All last night we watched the beacons 

Blazing on the hills afar, 
Each one bearing, as it kindled. 

Message of the opened war. 
All night long the northern streamers 

.Shot across the trembling sky : 
Fearful lights that never beckon 

Save when kings or heroes die. 



II. 



News of battle ! Who hath brought it }■ 
All are thronging to the gate ; 

" Warder — warder ! open quickly ; 
Man — is this a time to wait ?" 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 

And the heavy gates are opened : 

Then a murmur long and loud, 
And a cry of fear and wonder 

Bursts from out the bending crowd. 
For they see in battered harness 

Only one hard-stricken man ; 
And his weary steed is wounded, 

And his cheek is pale and wan : 
Spearless hangs a bloody banner 

In his weak and drooping hand — 
God ! can that be Randolph Murray, 

Captain of the city band ? 
III. 
Round him crush the people, crying, 

" Tell us all ; oh, tell us true ! 
Where are they who went to battle, 

Randolph Murray, sworn to you ? 
Where are they, our brothers — children ? 

Have they met the English foe ? 
Why art thou alone, unfollowed ? 

Is it weal or is it woe ? " 
Like a corpse the grisly warrior 

Looks from out his helm of steel ; 
But no word he speaks in answer — 

Only with his armed heel 
Chides his weary steed, and onward 

Up the city streets they ride — 
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children. 

Shrieking, praying by his side. 
" By the God that made thee, Randolph ! 

Tell us what mischance hath come." 
Then he lifts his riven banner, 

And the asker's voice is dumb. 



1 4 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

IV. 

The elders of the city 

Have met within their hall — 
The men whom good King James had charged 

To watch the tower and wall. 
" Your hands are weak with age," he said, 

" Your hearts are stout and true ; 
So bide ye in the Maiden Town, 

While others fight for you. 
My trumpet from the Border-side 

Shall send a blast so clear. 
That all who wait within the gate 

That stirring sound may hear. 
Or, if it be the will of Heaven 

That back I never come. 
And if, instead of Scottish shouts, 

Ye hear the English drum, — 
Then let the warning bells ring out. 

Then gird you to the fray. 
Then man the walls like burghers stout, 

And fight while fight you may. 
'Twere better than in fiery flame 

The roofs should thunder down. 
Than that the foot of foreign foe 

Should trample in the town ! " 



Then in came Randolph Murray,— 
His step was slow and weak, 

And, as he doffed his dinted helm, 
The tears ran down his cheek : 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 15 

They fell upon his corslet 

And on his mailed hand, 
As he gazed around him wistfully, 

Leaning sorely on his brand. 
And none who then beheld him 

But straight were smote with fear. 
For a bolder and a sterner man 

Had nev'er couched a spear. 
They knew so sad a messenger 

Some ghastly news must bring ; 
And all of them were fathers, 

And their sons were with the King. 



VI. 



And up then rose the Provost — 

A brave old man was he, 
Of ancient name, and knightly fame, 

And chivalrous degree. 
He ruled our city like a Lord 

Who brooked no equal here. 
And ever for the townsman's rights 

Stood up 'gainst prince and peer. 
And he had seen the Scottish host 

March from the Borough-muir, 
With music-storm and clamorous shout. 
And all the din that thunders out 

When youth's of victory sure. 
But yet a dearer thought had he, — 

For with a father's pride, 
He saw his last remaining son 

Go forth by Randolph' side. 



I 1 6 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

\ 

With casque on head and spur on heel, 

All keen to do and dare ; 
And proudly did that gallant boy 

Dunedin's banner bear. 
Oh ! woful now was the old man's look, 

And he spake right heavily — 
" Now, .Randolph, tell thy tidings, 

However sharp they be ! 
Woe is written on thy visage, 

Death is looking from thy face. 
Speak ! though it be of overthrow — 

It cannot be disgrace ! " 



VII. 

Right bitter was the agony 

That wrung that soldier proud : 
Thrice did he strive to answer, 

And thrice he groaned aloud. 
Then he gave the riven banner 

To the old man's shaking hand. 
Saying — " That is all I bring ye 

From the bravest of the land. 
Ay ! ye may look upon it — 

It was guarded well and long, 
By your brothers and your children, 

By the valiant and the strong. 
One by one they fell around it. 

As the archers laid them low. 
Grimly dying, still unconquered, 

With their faces to the foe. 



EDINB URGH A FTER FL ODDEN. 1 7 

Ay ! ye may well look upon it — 

There is more than honor there, 
Else, be sure, I had not brought it 

From the field of dark despair. 
Never yet was royal banner 

Steeped in such a costly dye ; 
It hath lain upon a bosom 

Where no other shroud shall lie. 
Sirs ! I charge you, keep it holy ; 

Keep it as a sacred thing. 
For the stain ye see upon it 

Was the life-blood of your King ! " 

VIII. 

Woe, and woe, and lamentation ! 

What a piteous cry was there ! 
Widows, maidens, mothers, children, 

Shrieking, sobbing in despair ! 
Through the streets the death-word rushes, 

Spreading terror, sweeping on — 
" Jesu Christ ! our King has fallen — 

O Great God, King James is gone ! 
Holy Mother Mary, shield us, 

Thou who erst didst lose thy Son ! 
O the blackest day for Scotland 

That she ever knew before ! 
O our King — the good, the noble, 

Shall we see him never more .' 
Woe to us, and woe to Scotland ! 

O our sons, our sons and men ! 
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron, 

Surely some will come again ! 



i8 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

Till the oak that fell last winter 

Shall uprear its shattered stem — 
Wives and mothers of Dunedin — 
Ye may look in vain for them ! 



IX. 



But within the Council Chamber 

All was silent as the grave, 
Whilst the tempest of their sorrow 

Shook the bosoms of the brave. 
Well indeed might they be shaken 

With the weight of such a blow : 
He was gone — their prince, their idol, 

Whom they loved and worshipped so ! 
Like a knell of death and judgment 

Rung from heaven by angel hand, 
Fell the words of desolation 

On the elders of the land. 
Hoary heads were bowed and trembling. 

Withered hands were clasped and wrung ; 
God had left the old and feeble. 

He had ta'en away the young. 



Then the Provost he uprose, 

And his lip was ashen white ; 
But a flush was on his brow, 

And his eye was full of light. 
" Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray, 

Like a soldier stout and true ; 
Thou hast done a deed of daring 

Had been perilled but by few. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 19 

For thou hast not shamed to face us, 

Nor to speak thy ghastly tale, 
Standing — thou a knight and captain — 

Here, alive within thy mail ! 
Now, as my God shall judge me, 

I hold it braver done. 
Than hadst thou tarried in thy place, 

And died above ray son I 
Thou need'st not tell it : he is dead. 

God help us all this day ! 
But speak— how fought the citizens 

Within the furious fray ? 
For by the might of Mary ! 

'Twere something still to tell 
That no Scottish foot went backward 

When the Royal Lion fell ! " 

XI. 

" No one failed him ! He is keeping 

Royal state and semblance still ; 
Knight and noble lie around him. 

Cold on Flodden's fatal hill. 
Of the brave and gallant-hearted, 

Whom you sent with prayers away. 
Not a single man departed 

From his monarch yesterday. 
Had you seen them, O my masters ! 

When the night began to fall, 
And the English spearmen gathered 

Round a grim and ghastly wall 
As the wolves in winter circle 

Round the leaguer on the heath. 
So the greedy foe glared upward, 

Panting still for blood and death. 



20 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

But a rampart rose t)efore them, 

Which the boldest dared not scale ; 
Every stone a Scottish body, 

Every step a corpse in mail ! 
And behind it lay our monarch. 

Clenching still his shivered sword ; 
By his side Montrose and Athole, 

At his feet a Southron lord. 
All so thick they lay together, 

When the stars lit up the sky, 
That I knew not who were stricken, 

Or who yet remained to die. 
Few there were when Surrey halted, 

And his wearied host withdrew; 
None but dying men around me, 

When the English trumpet blew, 
Then I stooped, and took the banner. 

As you see it, from his breast. 
And I closed our hero's eyelids, 

And I left him to his I'est. 
In the mountains growled the thunder. 

As I leaped the woful wall, 
And the heavy clouds were settling 

Over Flodden, like a pall." 

XII. 

So he ended. And the others 

Cared not any answer then ; 
Sitting silent, dumb with sorrow. 

Sitting anguish-struck, like men 
Who have seen the roaring torrent 

Sweep their happy homes away, 
And yet linger by the margin, 

Staring wildly on the spray. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 21 

But, without, the maddening tumult 

Waxes ever more and more, 
And the crowd of wailing women 

Gather round the Council door. 
Every dusky spire is ringing 

With a dull and hollow knell. 
And the Miserere's singing 

To the tolling of the bell. 
Through the streets the burghers hurry, 

Spreading terror as they go ; 
And the rampart's thronged with watchers 

For the coming of the foe. 
From each mountain-top a pillar 

Streams into the torpid air, 
Bearing token from the Border 

That the English host is there. 
All without is flight and terror, 

All within is woe and fear — 
God protect thee. Maiden City, 

For thy latest hour is near ! 

XIII. 

No ! not yet, thou high Dunedin ! 

Shall thou totter to thy fall ; 
Though thy bravest and thy strongest 

Are not here to man the wall. 
No, not yet ! the ancient spirit 

Of our fathers hath not gone ; 
Take it to thee as a buckler 

Better far than steel or stone. 
Oh, remember those who perished 

For thy birthright at the time 
When to be a Scot was treason, 

And to side with Wallace crime ! 



22 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

Have they not a voice among us, 

Whilst their hallowed dust is here ? 
Hear ye not a summons sounding 

From each buried warrior's bier ? 
Up ! — they say — and keep the freedom 

Which we won you long ago : 
Up ! and keep our graves unsullied 

From the insults of the foe ! 
Up ! and if ye cannot save them, 

Come to us in blood and fire : 
Midst the crash of falling turrets 

Let the last of Scots expire ! 

XIV. 

Still the bells are tolling fiercely. 

And the cry comes louder in ; 
Mothers wailing for their children, 

Sisters for their slaughtered kin. 
All is terror and disorder , 

Till the Provost rises up. 
Calm, as though he had not tasted 

Of the fell and bitter cup. 
All so stately from his sorrow, 

Rose the old undaunted chief. 
That you had not deemed, to see him. 

His was more than common grief. 
" Rouse ye, Sirs ! " he said ; " we may not 

Longer mourn for what is done ; 
If our King be taken from us. 

We are left to guard his son. 
We have sworn to keep the city 

From the foe, whate'cr they be, 
And the oath that we have taken 

Never shall be broke by me. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 23 

Death is nearer to us, brethren, 

Than it seemed to those who died, 
Fighting yesterday at Flodden, 

By their lord and master's side. 
Let us meet it then in patience, 

Not in terror or in fear ; 
Though our hearts are bleeding yonder, 

Let our souls be steadfast here. 
Up, and rouse ye ! Time is fleeting, 

And we yet have much to do ; 
Up ! and haste ye through the city, 

Stir the burghers stout and true, 
Gather all our scattered people. 

Fling the banner out once more, — 
Randolph Murray ! do thou bear it, 

As it erst was borne before : 
Never Scottish heart will leave it, 

When they see their monarch's gore. 

XV. 

" Let them cease that dismal knelling; 

It is time enough to ring. 
When the fortress-strength of Scotland 

Stoops to ruin like its King. 
Let the bells be kept for warning, 

Not for terrors or alarm ; 
When the next is heard to thunder, 

Let each man and stripling arm. 
Bid the women leave their wailing— 

Do they think that woful strain. 
From the bloody heaps of Flodden, 

Can redeem their dearest slain } 



24 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Bid them cease, — or rather hasten 

To the churches every one ; 
There to pray to Mary Mother, 

And to her anointed Son, 
That the thunderbolt above us 

May not fall in ruin yet ; 
That in fire and blood and rapine 

Scotland's glory may not set. 
Let them pray, — for never women 

Stood in need of such a prayer ! — 
England's yeoman shall not find them 

Clinging to the altars there. 
No ! if we are doomed to perish, 

Man and maiden, let us fall. 
And a common gulf of ruin 

Open wide to whelm us all ! 
Never shall the ruthless spoiler 

Lay his hot insulting hand 
On the sisters of our heroes. 

Whilst we bear a torch or brand ! 
Up ! and rouse ye, then, my brothers, — 

But when next ye hear the bell 
Sounding forth the sullen summons 

That may be our funeral knell, 
Once more let us meet together, 

Once more see each other's face ; 
Then, like men that need not tremble, 

Go to our appointed place. 
God, our Father, will not fail us, 

In that last tremendous hour, — 
If all other bulwarks crumble. 

He will be our stren2:th and tower: 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 25 

Though the ramparts rock beneath us, 
And the walls go crashing down, 

Though the roar of conflagration 
Bellow o'er the sinking town ; 

There is yet one place of shelter. 
Where the foemen cannot come, 

Where the summons never sounded 
Of the trumpet or the drum. 

There again we'll meet our children, 
Who, on Flodden's trampled sod, 

For their King and for their country- 
Rendered up their souls to God. 

There shall we find rest and refuge, 
With our dear departed brave 

And the ashes of the city 
Be our universal grave ! " 




THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 



The most poetical chronicler would find it impossible to 
render the incidents of Montrose's brilliant career more 
picturesque that the reality. Among the devoted cham- 
pions who, during the wildest and most stormy period of 
our history, maintained the cause of Church and King, 
" the Great Marquis " undoubtedly is entitled to the fore- 
most place. Even party malevolence, by no means extinct 
at the present day, has been unable to detract from the 
eulogy pronounced upon him by the famous Cardinal de 
Retz, the friend of Conde' and Turenne, when he thus 
summed up his character : — " Montrose, a Scottish noble- 
man, head of the house of Grahame — the only man in the 
world that has ever realized to me the ideas of certain 
heroes, whom we now discover nowhere but in the lives 
of Plutarch — has sustained in his own country the cause 
of the King his master, with a greatness of soul that has 
not found its equal in our age." 

But the success of the victorious leader and patriot is 
almost thrown into the shade by the noble magnanimity 
and Christian heroism of the man in the hour of defeat 
and death. Without wishing, in any degree, to revive a 
controversy long maintained by writers of opposite political 
and polemical opinions, it may fairly be stated that Scot- 
tish history does not present us with a tragedy of parallel 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 27 

interest. That the execution of Montrose was the natural, 
nay, the inevitable, consequence of his capture, may be 
freely admitted even by the fiercest partisan of the cause 
for which he staked his life. In those times, neither 
party was disposed to lenity ; and Montrose was far too 
conspicuous a character, and too dangerous a man, to be 
forgiven. But the ignominious and savage treatment 
which he received at the hands of those whose station and 
descent should at least have taught them to respect mis- 
fortune, has left an indelible stain upon the memory of the 
Covenanting chiefs, and more especially upon that of 
Argyle. 

The perfect serenity of the man in the hour of trial 
and death ; the courage and magnanimity which he dis- 
played to the last, have been dwelt upon with admiration 
by writers of every class. He heard his sentence deliv- 
ered without any apparent emotion, and afterwards told the 
magistrates who waited upon him in prison, " that he 
was much indebted to the Parliament for the great honor 
they had decreed him ; " adding, " that he was prouder 
to have his head placed upon the top of the prison, than 
if they had decreed a golden statue to be erected to him 
in the market-place, or that his picture should be hung in 
the King's bed-chamber." He said " he thanked them 
for their care to preserve the remembrance of his loyally, 
by transmitting such monuments to the different parts of 
the kingdom ; and only wished that he had i^esh enough to 
have sent a piece to every city in Christendom, as a token 
of his unshaken love and fidelity to his king and country." 
On the night before his execution, he inscribed the follow- 
ing lines with a diamond on the window of his jail : — 

" Let them bestow on every airth a limb, 
Then open all my vehis, that I may swim 
To thee, my Maker ! in that crimson lake ; 
Then place my parboiled head upon a stake — 



28 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

Scatter my ashes — strew them in the air ; 

Lord ! since thou knowest where all these atoms are, 

I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust, 

And confident thou'lt raise me with the just." 

After the Restoration the dust was recovered, the 
scattered remnants collected, and the bones of the hero 
conveyed to their final resting-place by a numerous assem- 
blage of gentlemen of his family and name. 

There is no ingredient of fiction in the historical inci- 
dents recorded in the following ballad. The indignities 
that were heaped upon Montrose during his procession 
through Edinburgh, his appearance before the Estates, 
and his last passage to the scaffold, as well as his undaunt- 
ed bearing, have all been spoken to by eye-witnesses of 
the scene. A graphic and vivid sketch of the whole will 
be found in Mr. Mark Napier's volume, " The Life and 
Times of Montrose " — a work as chivalrous in its tone as 
the Chronicles of Froissart, and abounding in original and 
most interesting materials ; but, in order to satisfy all 
scruple, the authorities for each fact are given in the shape 
of notes. The ballad may be considered as a narrative of 
the transactions related by an aged Highlander, who had 
followed Montrose throughout his campaigns, to his grand- 
son, shortly before the battle of Killiecrankie. 








,."'."'*■ 








^^ 


^^^^^^ 


THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 




I. 



Come hither, Evan Cameron 

Come, stand beside my knee — 
I hear the river roaring down 

Towards the wintry sea. 
There's shouting on the mountain-side, 

There's war within the blast — 
Old faces look upon me. 

Old forms go trooping past ; 
I hear the pibroch wailing 

Amidst the din of fight, 
And my dim spirit wakes again 

Upon the verge of night. 

II. 
'Twas I that led the Highland host 

Through wild Lochaber's snows. 
What time the plaided clans came down 

To battle with Montrose. 
I've told thee how the Southrons fell 

Beneath the broad claymore. 
And how we smote the Campbell clan, 

By Inverlochy's shore. 



so LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

I've told thee how we swept Dundee, 
And tamed the Lindsays' pride ; 

But never have I told thee yet 
How the great Marquis died. 

III. 

A traitor sold him to his foes ; 

O deed of deathless shame ! 
I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet 

With one of Assynt's name — 
Be it upon the mountain's side. 

Or yet within the glen, 
Stand he in martial gear alone, 

Or backed by armed men — 
Face him as thou wouldst face the man 

Who wronged thy sire's renown ; 
Remember of what blood thou art, 

And strike the caitiff down ! 

IV. 

They brought him to the Watergate, 

Hard bound with hempen span, 
As though they held a lion there, 

And not a fenceless man. 
They set him high upon a cart — 

The hangman rode below — 
They drew his hands behind his back, 

And bared his noble brow. 
Then, as a hound is slipped from leash, 

They cheered the common throng, 
And blew the note with yell and shout. 

And bade him pass along. 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 31 

V. 

It would have made a brave man's heart 

Grow sad and sick that day, 
To watch the keen, malignant eyes 

Bent down on that array. 
There stood the Whig west-country lords, 

In balcony and bow ; 
There sat the gaunt and withered dames, 

And their daughters all a-row. 
And every open window 

Was full as full might be 
With black-robed Covenanting carles, 

That goodly sport to see ! 

VI. 

But when he came, though pale and wan, 

He looked so great and high, 
So noble was his manly front. 

So calm his steadfast eye ; — 
The rabble rout forebore to shout 

And each man held his breath, 
For well they knew the hero's soul 

Was face to face with death. 
And then a mournful shudder 

Through all the people crept, 
And some that came to scoff at him 

Now turned aside and wept. 

VII. 

But onwards — always onwards, 

In silence and in gloom, 
The dreary pageant labored, 

Till it reached the house of doom. 



32 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Then first a woman's voice was heard 

In jeer and laughter loud, 
And an angry cry and a hiss arose 

From the heart of the tossing crowd : 
Then as the Graeme looked upwards, 

He saw the ugly smile 
Of him who sold his king for gold — 

The master-fiend Argyle ! 

VIII. 

The Marquis gazed a moment, 

And nothing did he say, 
But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale 

And he turned his eyes away. 
The painted harlot by his side, 

She shook through every limb, 
For a roar like thunder swept the street, 

And hands were clenched at him ; 
And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, 

" Back, coward, from thy place ! 
For seven long years thou hast not dared 

To look him in the face." 

IX. 

Had I been there with sword in hand, 

And fifty Camerons by, 
That day through high Dunedin's streets 

Had pealed the slogan -cry. 
Not all their troops of trampling horse, 

Nor might of mailed men — 
Not all the rebels in the south 

Had borne us backwards then ! 



THE EXECUTION OE MONTROSE. Zl 

Once more his foot on highland heath 

Had trod as free as air, 
Or I, and all who bore my name. 

Been laid around him there ! 

X. 

It might not be. They placed him next 

Within the solemn hall, 
Where once the Scottish kings were throned 

Amidst their nobles all. 
But there was dust of vulgar feet 

On that polluted floor, 
And perjured traitors filled the place 

Where good men sate before. 
With savage glee came Warristoun, 

To read the murderous doom ; 
And then uprose the great Montrose 

In the middle of the room. 

XI. 

" Now, by my faith as belted knight, 

And by the name I bear, 
And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross 

That waves above us there — 
Yea, by a greater, mightier oath — 

And oh, that such should be ! — 
By that dark stream of royal blood ' 

That lies 'twixt you and me — 
I have not sought in battle-field 

A wreath of such renown. 
Nor dared I hope on my dying day 

To win the martyr's crown ! 



34 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VAUERS. 

XII. 

" There is a chamber far away 

Where sleep the good and brave, 
But a better place ye have named for me 

Than by my father's grave. 
For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, 

This hand hath always striven, 
And ye raise it up for a witness still 

In the eye of earth and heaven. 
Then nail my head on yonder tower — 

Give every town a limb — 
And God who made shall gather them • 

I go from you to Him ! " 

XIII. 

The morning dawned full darkly, 

The rain came flashing down. 
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt 

Lit up the gloomy town : 
The thunder crashed across the heaven, 

The fatal hour was come ; 
Yet aye broke in with muffled beat, 

The 'larm of the drum. 
There was madness on the earth below 

And anger in the sky, 
And young and old, and rich and poor 

Came forth to see him die. 

XIV. 

Ah, God ! that ghastly gibbet ! 

How dismal 'tis to see 
The great tall spectral skeleton, 

The ladder and the tree I 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 35 

Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms — 

The bells begin to toll — 
" He is coming ! he is coming. 

God's mercy on his soul ! " 
One last long peal of thunder — 

The clouds are cleared away, 
And the glorious sun once more looks down 

Amidst the dazzling day. 

XV. 

" He is coming ! he is coming ! " 

Like a bridegroom from his room, 
Came the hero from his prison 

To the scaffold and the doom. 
There was glory on his forehead, 

There was lustre in his eye. 
And he never walked to battle 

More proudly than to die ; 
There was color in his visage 

Though the cheeks of all were wan, 
And they marvelled as they saw him pass, 

That great and goodly man ! 

XVI. 

He mounted up the scaffold, 

And he turned him to the crowd ; 
But they dared not trust the people, 

So he might not speak aloud. 
But he looked upon the heavens. 

And they were clear and blue, 
And in the liquid ether 

The eye of God shone through. 



36 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CA]'ALIERS. 

Yet a black and murky battlement 

Lay resting on the hill, 
As though the thunder slept within — 

All else was calm and still. 

XVII. 

The grim Geneva ministers 

With anxious scowl drew near, 
As you have seen the ravens flock 

Around the dying deer. 
He would not deign them word nor sign. 

But alone he bent the knee ; 
And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace 

Beneath the gallows-tree. 
Then radiant and serene he rose, 

And cast his cloak away : 
For he had ta'en his latest look 

Of earth and sun and day. 

XVIII. 

A beam of light fell o'er him. 

Like a glory round the shriven 
And he climed the lofty ladder 

As it were the path to heaven. 
Then came a flash from out the cloud, 

And a stunning thunder-roll ; 
And no man dared to look aloft. 

For fear was on every soul. 
There was another heavy sound, 

A hush and then a groan ; 
And darkness swept across the sk-,- — 

The work of death was done ! 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 37 



NOTES TO THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 



" A traitor sold him to his foes. " — P. }:^ 

" The contemporary historian of the Earls of Sutherland 
records, that (after the defeat of Invercaron) Montrose 
and Kinnoul ' wandered up the river Kyle the whole en- 
suing night, and the next day, and the third day also, with- 
out any food or sustenance, and at last came within the 
country of Assynt. The Earl of Kinnoul, being faint for 
lack of meat, and not able to travel any farther, was left 
there among the mountains, where it was supposed he 
perished. Montrose had almost famished, but that he 
fortuned in his misery to light upon a small cottage in that 
wilderness, where he was supplied with some milk and 
bread.' Not even the iron frame of Montrose could 
endure a prolonged existence under such circumstances. 
He gave himself up to Macleod of Assynt, a former 
adherent, from whom he had reason to expect assist- 
ance in consideration of that circumstance, and, indeed, 
from the dictates of honorable feeling and common human- 
ity. As the Argyle faction had sold the King, so this 
Highlander rendered his own name infamous by selling 
the hero to the Covenanters, for which ' duty to the public ' 
he was rewarded with four hundred bolls of meal." — 
Napier's Life of Mo/ifrose. 

" They brought him to the Watergate.^'' — P. 17S. 

" Friday, 1 7/// May. — Act ordaining James Grahame to be 
brought from the Watergate on a cart, bareheaded, the hang- 
man in his livery, covered, riding on the horse that draws the 
cart — the prisoner to be bound to the cart with a rope — to 
the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and from thence to be brought 



38 LAVS or THE SCOTT/S/l C.l I'.l L/EJ^S. 

to the Parliament House, and there, in the place of delin- 
quents, on his knees, to receive his sentence — viz., to be 
hanged on a gibbet at the Cross of Edinburgh, with his book 
and declaration tied on a rope about his neck, and there 
lo hang for the space of three hours until he be dead ; 
and thereafter to be cut down by the hangman, his head, 
hands, and legs to be cut off, and distributed as follows : — 
viz., his head to be afifixed on an iron pin, and set on the 
pinacle of the west gavel of the new prison of Edinburgh ; 
one hand to be set on the port of Perth, the other on the 
port of Stirling; one leg and foot on the port of Aberdeen, 
the other on the port of Glasgow. If at his death penitent, 
and relaxed from excommunication, then the trunk of his 
body to be interred by pioneers in the Greyfriars ; other- 
wise, to be interred in the Boroughmuir, by the hangman's 
men, under the gallows." — Balfour's Notes of Farliametit. 
It is needless to remark that the inhuman sentence was 
executed to the letter. In order that the exposure might 
be more complete, the cart was constructed with a high 
chair in the centre, having holes behind, through which the 
ropes that fastened him were drawn. The author of the 
Wigton Papers, recently published by the Maitland Club, 
says, " The reason of his being tied to the cart was in hope 
that the people would have stoned him, and that he might 
not be able by his hands to save his face." Plis hat was then 
pulled off by the hangman, and the procession commenced. 

" But ivhcii he came, though f ale andivau. 
He looked so great and high.'" — P. 179. 

" In all the way, there appeared in him such majesty, 
courage, modesty — and even somewhat more than natur- 
al — that those common women who had lost their husbands 
and children in his wars, and who were hired to stone him, 
were upon the sight of him so astonished and moved, that 
their intended curses turned into tears and prayers ; so 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 39 [ 



that next clay all the ministers preached against them for not 
storting an:l rcinling hiiny — Wigion Papers. 

" TJicn first a womait^s 7'oice loas heard 
In jeer and laughter loud.'" — P. iSo. 

" It is remarkable that, of the many thousand behold- 
ers, the Lady Jean Gordon, Countess of Haddington, did 
(alone) publicly insult and laugh at him ; which being per- 
ceived by a gentleman in the street, he cried up to her, 
that it became her better to sit upon the cart for her adul- 
teries." — Wigto)i Papers. This infamous woman was the 
third daughter of Huntley, and the niece of Argyle. It will 
hardly be credited that she was the sister of that gallant 
Lord Gordon, who fell fighting by the side of Montrose, 
only five years before, at the battle of Aldford ! 

" For seven long years thou hast not dared 
To look him in the face.''' — P. iSo. 

"The Lord Lorn and his new lady were also sitting on 
a balcony, joyful spectators ; and the cart being stopped 
when it came before the lodging where the Chancellor, 
Argyle, and Warristoun sac — that they might have time to 
insult — he, suspecting the business, turned his face towards 
them, whereupon they presently crept in at the windows ; 
which being perceived by an Englishman, he cried up, it 
was no wonder they started aside at his look, for they 
durst r.ot look him in the face these seven years bygone." 
— JVigton Papers. 

" With savage glee came Warristoun 

To read the murderous doom.'''' — P. iSl. 

Archibald Johnston of Warristoun. This man, who was 
the inveterate enemy of Montrose, and who carried the most 
selfish spirit into every intrigue of his party, received the 
punishment of his treasons about eleven years afterwards. 
It may be instructive to learn how he met his doom. The 



4° LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

following extract is from the MSS. of Sir George Macken- 
zie : — " Tlie Chancellor and others waited to examine him ; 
he fell upon hfs face, roaring, and with tears entreated they 
would pity a poor creature who had forgot all that was in 
the Bible. This moved all the spectators with a deep 
melancholy ; and the Chancellor, reflecting upon the man's 
great parts, former esteem, and the great share he had ir. 
all the late revolutions, could not deny some tears to the 
frailty of silly mankind. At his examination he pretended 
he had lost so much blood by the unskilfulness of his 
chirurgeons, that he lost his memory with his blood ; and 
I really believe that his courage had been drawn out with 
it. Within a few days he was brought before the par- 
liament, where he discovered nothing but much weakness, 
running up and down upon his knees, begging mercy ; but 
the parliament ordained his former sentence to be put to 
execution, and accordingly he was executed at the Cross 
of Edinburgh." 

" And God who made shall gather them : 
I go from yoii to Him!''' — P. 182. 

" He said he was much beholden to the parliament for 
the honor they put on him ; ' for,' says he, ' I think it a 
greater honor to have my head standing on the port of this 
town, for this quarrel, than to have my picture in the king's 
bed-chamber. I am beholden to you that, lest my loyalty 
should be forgotten, ye have appointed five of your most 
eminent towns to bear witness of it to osterity.' " — Wigton 
Papers. 

" He is coming ! he is coming ! 

Like a bridegroom from his roomP — P. 183. 

" In his downgoings from the Tolbooth to the place of 
execution, he was very richly clad in fine scarlet, laid over 
with rich silver lace, his hat in his hand, his bands and 
cuffs exceeding rich, his delicate white gloves on his hands, 



THE EXECUTION OE MONTROSE. 41 

his stockings of incarnate silk, and his shoes with their 
ribbons on his feet; and sarks provided for him with 
pearling about, above ten pounds the elne. All these were 
provided for him by his friends, and a pretty cassock put 
on upon him, upon the scaffold, wherein he was hanged. 
To be short, nothing was here deficient to honor his poor 
carcase, more beseeming a bridegroom than a criminal 
going to the gallows." — Nicholl's Diary. 

'^ The grim Geneva ministers 

With anxious semul dre-M 7iear" — P. 184. 

The Presbyterian ministers beset Montrose both in pris- 
on and on the scaffold. The following extracts are from the 
diary of the Rev. Robert Traill, one of the persons who 
were appointed by the commission of the kirk " to deal 
with him : " — " By a warrant from the kirk, we staid awhile 
with him about his soul's condition. But we found him 
continuing in his old pride, and taking very ill what was 
spoken to him, saying, ' I pray you, gentlemen, let me die 
in peace.' It was answered that he might die in true 
peace, being reconciled to the Lord and to his kirk." — 
" We returned to the commission, and did show unto them 
what had passed amongst us. They seeing that for the 
present he was not desiring relaxation from his censure of 
excommunication, did appoint Mr. Mungo Law and me 
to attend on the morrow on the scaffold, at the time of his 
execution, that in case he should desire to be relaxed from 
excommunication, we should be allowed to give it unto 
him in the name of the kirk, and to pray with him and for 
h\\\\,tkat what is loosed on earth might be loosed iji heaven.^'' 
But this pious intention, which may appear somewhat 
strange to the modern Calvinist, when the prevailing theo- 
ries of the kirk regarding the efficacy of absolution are 
considered, was not destined to be fulfilled. Mr. Traill 
goes on to say, " But he did not at all desire to be relaxed 



42 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

from his excommunication in the name of the kirk, yea, 
did not look towards that place on the scaffold ivhere we stood ; 
only he drew apart some of the magistrates, and spake a 
while with them, and then went up the ladder, in his red 
scarlet cassock, in a very stately manner." 

" And he climbed the lofty ladder 

As it were the path to heavenP P. 184. 

" He was very earnest that he might have the liberty to 
keep on his hat — it was denied : he requested he might 
have the privilege to keep his cloak about him — neither 
could that be granted. Then, with a most undaunted 
courage he went up to the top of that prodigious gibbet." 
— " The whole people gave a general groan ; and it was 
very observable, that even those who, at his first appear- 
ance, had bitterly inveighed against him, could not now 
abstain from tears." — Montrose Rcdivivus. 




THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 



Hector Boece, in his very deliglitful, though somewhat 
apocryphal Chronicles of Scotland, tells us, that " quhen 
Schir James Douglas was chosin as maist worthy of all 
Scotland to pass with King Robertis hart to the Holy 
Land, he put it in ane cais of gold, with arromitike and 
precious unyementis ; and tuke with him Schir William 
Sinclare and Schir Robert Logan, with mony othir nobil- 
men, to the haily graif ; quhare he buryit the said hart, 
with maist reverence and solempnitie that could be de- 
visit." 

But no contemporary historian bears out the statement 
of the old Canon of Aberdeen. Froissart, Fordoun, and 
Barbour all agree that the devotional pilgrimage of the 
good Sir James was not destined to be accomplished, and 
that the heart of Scotland's greatest King and hero was 
brought back to the land of his nativity. Mr. Tytler, in 
few words, has so graphically recounted the leading events 
of this expedition, that I do not hesitate to adopt his nar- 
rative : — 

" As soon as the season of the year permitted, Douglas, 
having the heart of his beloved master under his charge, 
set sail from Scotland, accompanied by a splendid retinue, 
and anchored off Sluys in Flanders, at this time the great 
seaport of the Netherlands. His object was to find out 
companions with whom he might travel to Jerusalem ; but 



44 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

he declined landing, and for twelve days received all visit- 
ors on board his ship with a state almost kingly. 

" At Sluys he heard that Alonzo, the king of Leon and 
Castile, was carrying on war with Osmyn, the Moorish gover- 
nor of Granada. The religious mission which he had em- 
braced, and the vows he had taken before leaving Scotland, 
induced Douglas to consider Alonzo's cause as a holy war- 
fare ; and before proceeding to Jerusalem, he first deter- 
mined to visit Spain, and to signalize his prowess against 
the Saracens. But his first field against the Infidels proved 
fatal to him who, in the long English war, had seen seventy 
battles. The circumstances of his death were striking and 
characteristic. In an action near Theba, on the borders 
of Andalusia, the Moorish cavalry were defeated ; and 
after their camp had been taken, Douglas, with his com- 
panions, engaged too eagerly in the pursuit, and being 
separated from the main body of the Spanish army, a strong 
division of the Moors rallied and surrounded them. The 
Scottish knight endeavored to cut his way through the In- 
fidels, and in all probability would have succeeded, had 
he not again turned to rescue Sir William Saint Clair of 
Roslin, whom he saw in jeopardy. In attempting this, he 
was inextricably involved with the enemy. Taking from 
his neck the casket which contained the heart of Bruce, he 
cast it before him, and exclaimed with a loud voice, ' Now 
pass onward as thou wert wont, and Douglas will follow 
thee or die ! ' The action and the sentiment were heroic, 
and they were the last words and deed of a heroic life, for 
Douglas fell overpowered by his enemies ; and three of 
his knights, and many of his companions, were slain along 
with their master. On the succeeding day, the body and 
the casket were both found on the field, and by his survi- 
ving friends conveyed to Scotland. The heart of Bruce 
was deposited at Melrose, and the body of the 'Good Sir 
James' — the name by which he is affectionately remem- 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 45 

berecl by his countrymen — was consigned to the cemetery 
of his fathers in the parish church of Douglas." 

A nobler death on the field of battle is not recorded in 
the annals of chivalry. In memory of this expedition, the 
Douglases have ever since carried the armorial bearings 
of the Bloody Heart surmounted by the Crown ; and a 
similiar distinction is born by another family. Sir Simon 
of Lee, a distinguished companion of Douglas, was the 
person on whom after the fall of his leader, the custody 
of the heart devolved. Hence the name of Lockhart and 
their effigy, the Heart within a Fetterlock. 




THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 



It was upon an April morn, 
While yet the frost lay hoar, 

We heard Lord James's bugle-horn 
Sound by the rocky shore. 



Then down we went, a hundred knights. 

All in our dark array. 
And flung our armor in the ships 

That rode within the bay. 

III. 
W^e spoke not, as the shore grew less, 

But gazed in silence back. 
Where the long billows swept away 

The foam behind our track. 



IV. 



And aye the purple hues decayed 

Upon the fading hill, 
And but one heart in all that shij) 

Was tranquil, cold, and still. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 47 

V. 
The good Lord Douglas paced the deck — 

Oh, but his face was wan ! 
Unlike the flush it used to wear 

When in the battle-van. 

VI. 

" Come hither, I pray, my trusty knight, 

Sir Simon of the Lee ; 
There is a freit lies near my soul 

I needs must tell to thee. 

VII. 

"Thouknow'st the words King Rober' spoke 

Upon his dying day : 
How he bade me take his noble heart 

And carry it far away ; 

VIII. 

" And lay it in the holy soil 

Where once the Saviour trod, 
Since he might not bear the blessed Cross, 

Nor strike one blow for God. 

IX. 

" Last night as in my bed I lay, 

I dreamed a dreary dream : — 
Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand 

In the moonlight's quivering beam. 

X. 

" His robe was of the azure dye — 
Snow-white his scattered hairs — 

And even such a cross he bore 
As good Saint Andrew bears. 



48 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA V ALTERS. 

XI, 

" ' Why go ye forth, Lord James,' he said, 
' With spear and belted brand ? 

Why do you take its dearest pledge 
From this our Scottish land ? 

XII. 

" 'The sultry breeze of Galilee 

Creeps through its groves of palm, 

The olives on the Holy Mount 
Stand glittering in the calm. 

XIII. 

" ' But 'tis not there that Scotland's heart 

Shall rest, by God's decree, 
Till the great angel calls the dead 

To rise from earth and sea ! 

XIV. 

" * Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede ! 

That heart shall pass once more 
In fiery fight against the foe. 

As it was wont of yore. 

XV. 

'"And it shall pass beneath the cross. 
And save King Robert's vow ; 

But other hands shall bear it back, 
Not, James of Douglas, thou! ' 

XVI. 

" Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray, 

Sir Simon of the Lee — 
Nor truer friend had never man 

Than thou hast been to mc — 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 49 

XVII. 

" If ne'er upon the Holy Land 

'Tis mine in life to tread, 
Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth 

The relics of her dead." 

XVIII. 

The tear was in Sir Simon's eye 
As he wrung the warrior's hand — 

" Betide me weal, betide me woe, 
I'll hold by thy command. 

XIX. 

" But if in battle-front, Lord James, 

'Tis ours once more to ride, 
Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend. 

Shall cleave me from thy side ! " 

XX. 

And aye we sailed, and aye we sailed, 

Across the weary sea, 
Until one morn the coast of Spain 

Rose grimly on our lee, 

XXI. 

And as we rounded to the port, 

Beneath the watch-tower's wall. 
We heard the clash of the atabals. 

And the trumpet's wavering call. 

XXII. 

" Why sounds yon Eastern music here 

So wantonly and long. 
And whose the crowd of armed men 

That round von standard throne; } " 



50 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

XXIII. 
" The Moors have come from Africa 

To spoil, and waste, and slay, 
And King Alonzo of Castile 

Must fight with them to-day." 

XXIV. 

" Now shame it were," cried good Lord James, 

" Shall never be said of me, 
That I and mine have turned aside 

From the Cross in jeopardie! 

XXV. 

" Have down, have down, my merry men all- 
Have down unto the plain ; 

We'll let the Scottish lion loose 
Within the fields of Spain ! " 

xxvi. 
" Now welcome to me, noble Lord, 

Thou and thy stalwart power ; 
Dear is the sight of a Christian knight, 

Who comes in such an hour ! 

XX VII. 

" Is it for bond or faith you come. 

Or yet for golden fee .-* 
Or bring ye France's lilies here. 

Or the flower of Burgundie .'' " , 

XXVIII. 

" God greet thee well, thou valiant king, 

Thee and thy belted peers — 
Sir James of Douglas am I called, 

And these are Scottish spears. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 51 

XXIX. 

" We do not fight for bond or plight, 

Nor yet for golden fee ; 
But for the sake of our blessed Lord, 

Who died upon the tree. 

XXX, 

" We bring our great King Robert's heart 

Across the weltering wave. 
To lay it in the holy soil 

Hard by the Saviour's grave. 

XXXI. 

" True pilgrims we, by land or sea. 

Where danger bars the way ; 
And therefore are vi^e here, Lord King, 

To ride with thee this day ! " 

XXXII. 

The King has bent his stately head, 
And the tears were in his eyne — 

"■ God's blessing on thee, noble knight. 
For this brave thought of thine ! 

XXXIII. 

" I knew thy name full well, Lord James, 

And honored may I be. 
That those who fought beside the Bruce 

Should fight this day for me ! 

XXXIV. 

" Take thou the leading of the van, 

And charge the Moors amain ; 
There is not such a lance as thine 

In all the host of Spain ! " 



52 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

XXXV. 

The Douglas turned towards us then, 

Oh, but his glance was high ! 
" There is not one of all my men 

But is as frank as I. 

XXXVI. 

" There is not one of all my knights 

But bears as true a spear — 
Then — onwards, Scottish gentlemen, 

And think, King Robert's here!" 

XXXVII. 

The trumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew, 
The arrows flashed like flame, 

As, spur in side, and spear in rest, 
Against the foe we came. 

XXXVIII. 

And many a bearded Saracen 

Went down, both horse and man ; 

For through their ranks we rode like corn. 
So furiously we ran ! 

XXX IX. 

But in behind our path they closed, 
Though fain to let us through ; 

For they were forty thousand men, 
And we were wondrous few. 

XL, 

We might not see a lance's length, 

So dense was their array. 
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade 

Still held them hard at bay. 



THE HEART OE THE BRUCE. 53 

XLI. 

" Make in ! make in ! " Lord Douglas cried — 

" Make in, my brethren dear^ 
Sir William of St. Clair is down ; 

We may not leave him here ! " 

XLIL 

But thicker, thicker grew the swarm. 

And sharper shot the rain ; 
And the horses reared amid the press, 

But they would not charge again. 

XLIII. 

" Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James 

" Thou kind and ti'ue St. Clair ! 
An' if I may not bring thee off, 

I'll die beside thee there ! " 

XLIV. 

Then in the stirrups up he stood, 

So lion-like and bold, 
And held the precious heart aloft 

All in its case of gold. 

XLV. 

He flung it from him far ahead. 

And never spake he more. 
But — " Pass thee first, thou dauntless heart. 

As thou wert wont of yore ! " 

XLVI. 

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet, 

And heavier still the stour. 
Till the spears of Spain came shivering in, 

And swept away the Moor. 



54 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 
XL VII. 

" Now praised be God the day is won ! 

Tliey fly o'er flood and fell — 
Why dost thou draw the rein so hard, 

Good knight, that fought so well ? " 

XLVIII. 

" Oh, ride ye on, Lord King ! " he said, 
" And leave the dead to me ; 

For I must keep the dreariest watch 
That ever I shall dree ! 

XLIX. 

" There lies above his master's heart. 
The Douglas, stark and grim ; 

And woe, that I am living man, 
Not lying there by him ! 

L. 

" The world grows cold, my arm is old, 

And thin my lyart hair, 
And all that I loved best on earth 

Is stretched before me there. 

LI. 

" O Bothwell banks, that bloom so bright 

Beneath the sun of May ! 
The heaviest cloud that ever blew 

Is bound for you this day. 

LIL 

" And, Scotland, thou may'st veil thy head 

In sorrow and in pain : 
The sorest stroke upon thy brow 

Hath fallen this day in Spain ! 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 55 

LIII. 
" We'll bear them back unto our ship, 

We'll bear them o'er the sea, 
And lay them in the hallowed earth, 

Within our own countrie. 

LIV. 

*' And be thou strong of heart, Lord King, 

For this I tell thee sure, 
The sod that drank the Douglas' blood 

Shall never bear the Moor ! " 

LV. 

The King he lighted from his horse, 

He flung his brand away. 
And took the Douglas by the hand, 

So stately as he lay. 

LVI. 

"God give thee rest, thou valiant soul! 

That fought so well for Spain ; 
I'd rather half my land were gone, 

So thou wert here again ! " 

LVII. 

We lifted thence the good Lord James, 

And the priceless heart he bore ; \ 

And heavily we steered our ship j 

Towards the Scottish shore. 

LVIII. 

No welcome greeted our return, 

Nor clang of martial tread, 
But all were dumb and hushed as death, 

Before the might}^ dead. 



56 



LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA V A TIERS. 



LIX. 



We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk, 
The heart in fair Melrose ; 

And woful men were we that day — 
God grant their souls repose ! 





THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 



It is very much to be regretted that no competent person 
has as yet undertaken the task of compiling a full and 
authentic biography of Lord Viscount Dundee. His 
memory has consequently been left at the mercy of 
writers who have espoused the opposite political creed ; 
and the pen of romance has been freely employed to por- 
tray as a bloody assassin one of the most accomplished 
men and gallant soldiers of his age. 

In order to do justice to Claverhouse, we must regard 
him in connection with the age and country in which he 
lived. The religious differences of Scotland were then 
at their greatest height ; and there is hardly any act of 
atrocity and rebellion which had not been committed 
by the insurgents. The royal authority was openly and 
publicly disowned in the western districts : the Arch- 
bishop of St. Andrews, after more than one hair-breadth 
escape, had been waylaid and barbarously murdered by 
an armed gang of fanatics on Magus Muir ; and his 
da-ughter was wounded and maltreated while interceding 
for the old man's life. The country was infested by ban- 
ditti, who took every possible opportunity of shooting 



58 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

down and massacring any of the straggling soldiery : the 
clergy were attacked and driven from their houses ; so 
that, throughout a considerable portion of Scotland, there 
was no security either for property or for life. It was 
lately the fashion to praise and magnify the Covenanters 
as the most innocent and persecuted of men ; but thosi 
who are so ready with their sympathy, rarely take the 
pains to satisfy themselves, by reference to the annals of 
the time, of the true character and motives of those men 
whom they blindly venerate as martyrs. They forget, in 
their zeal for religious freedom, that even the purest and 
holiest of causes may be sullied and disgraced by the 
deeds of its upholders, and that a wild and frantic profes- 
sion of faith is not always a test of genuine piety. It is 
not in the slightest degree necessary to discuss whether 
the royal prerogative was at that time arbitrarily used, or 
whether the religious freedom of the nation was unduly 
curtailed. Both points may be, and indeed are, admit- 
ted — for it is impossible altogether to vindicate the policy 
of the measures adopted by the two last monarchs of the 
house of Stuart; but neither admission will clear the 
Covenanters from the stain of deliberate cruelty. 

After the batde of Philiphaugh, the royalist prisoners 
were butchered in cold blood, under the superintendence 
of a clerical emissary, who stood by rubbing his hands, 
and exclaiming—" The wark gangs bonnily on !" Were 
I to transcribe, from the pamphlets before me, the list of 
the murders which were perpetrated by the country 
people on the soldiery, officers and gentlemen of loyal 
principles, during the reign of Charles II., I believe that 
no candid person would be surprised at the severe retalia- 
tion which was made. It must be remembered that the 
country was then under military law, and that the strict- 
est orders had been issued by the Government to the 
officers in command of the troops, to use every means 



■■ 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 59 

in their power for the effectual repression of tlie disturb- 
ances. The necessity of such orders will become appa- 
rent, when we reflect that, besides the open actions at 
Aird's Moss and Drumclog, tlie city of Glasgow was 
attacked, and the royal forces compelled for a time to fall 
back upon Stirling. 

Under such circumstances, it is no wonder if the 
soldiery were severe in their reprisals. Innocent blood 
may no doubt have been shed, and in some cases even 
wantonly ; for when rebellion has grown into civil war, 
and the ordinary course of the law is put in abeyance, it 
is always impossible to restrain military license. But it 
is most unfair to lay the whole odium of such acts upon 
those who were in command, and to dishonor the fair 
names of gentlemen, by attributing to them personally, the 
commission of deeds of which they were absolutely igno- 
rant. To this day the peasantry of the western districts 
of Scotland entertain the idea that Claverhouse was a 
sort of fiend in human shape, tall, muscular, and hideous 
in aspect, secured by infernal spells from the chance 
of perishing by any ordinary weapon, and mounted on 
a huge black horse, the especial gift of Beelzebub ! On 
this charger it is supposed that he could ride up preci- 
pices as easily as he could traverse the level ground — that 
he was constantly accompanied by a body of desperadoes, 
vulgarly known by such euphonious titles as " Hell's Tam" 
and "the De'ils Jock," and that his whole time was occu- 
pied, day and night, in hunting Covenanters upon the 
hills ! Almost every rebel who was taken in arms and 
shot, is supposed to have met his death from the individ- 
ual pistol of Claverhouse ; and the tales which, from 
time to time, have been written by such ingenious persons 
as the late Mr. Gait and the Ettrick Shepherd, have 
quietly been assumed as facts, and added to the store of 
our traditionary knowledge. It is in vain to hint that 



6o LAY'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

the chief commanders of the forces in Scotland could 
have found little leisure, even had they possessed the 
taste, for pursuing single insurgents. Such suggestions 
are an insult to martyrology ; and many a parish of the 
west would be indignant were it averred that the tenant 
of its grey stone had suffered by a meaner hand. 

When we look at the portrait of Claverhouse, and 
survey the calm, melancholy and beautiful features of 
the devoted soldier, it appears almost incredible that 
he should have provoked so much calumny and misrepre- 
sentation. But when — discarding modern historians, who 
in too many instances do not seem to entertain the slight- 
est scruple in dealing with the memory of the dead * 
— we turn to the writings of his contemporaries, who 
knew the man, his character appears in a very different 
light. They describe him as one who was stainless in his 
honor, pure in his faith, wise in council, resolute in 
action, and utterly free from that selfishness which dis- 
graced many of the Scottish statesmen of the time. No 
one dares question his loyalty, for he sealed that confes- 
sion with his blood ; and it is universally admitted that 
with him fell the last hopes of the reinstatement of the 
house of Stuart. 

I may perhaps be permitted here, in the absence of 
a better chronicler, to mention a few particulars of his 
life, which, I believe, are comparatively unknown. John 
Grahame of Claverhouse was a cadet of the family of 
Fintrie, connected by intermarriage with the blood-royal 
of Scotland. After completing his studies at the Univer- 
sity of St. Andrews, he entered, as was the national cus- 
tom for gentlemen of good birth and limited means, into 
foreign service ; served some time in France as a volunteer, 
and afterwards went to Holland. He very soon received a 

* Vide Appendix. 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 6i 

commission, as a cornet in a regiment of horse-guards, 
from the Prince of Orange, nephew of Charles II. and 
James VII., and who afterwards married the Princess 
Mary. His manner at that time is thus described : — " He 
was then ane esquire under the title of John Grahame, of 
Claverhouse ; but the vivacity of his parts, and the deli- 
cacy and justice of his understanding and judgment, 
joined with a certain vigor of mind and activity of body 
distinguished him in such a manner from all others of his 
rank, that though he lived in a sujDerior character, yet 
he acquired the love and esteem of all his equals as 
well as of those who had the advantage of him in dignity 
and estate." 

By one of those singular accidents which we occasionally 
meet with in history, Grahame, afterwards destined to 
become his most formidable opponent, saved the life of the 
Prince of Orange at the battle of St. Neff. The Prince's 
horse had been killed, and he himself was in the grasp of 
the enemy, when the young cornet rode to his rescue, 
freed him from his assailants, and mounted him on his 
own steed. For this service he received a captain's com- 
mission, and the promise of the first regiment that should 
fall vacant. 

But, even in early life, William of Orange was not 
famous for keeping his promises. Some years afterwards 
a vacancy in one of the Scotcish Regiments in the Prince's 
service occurred, and Claverhouse, relying upon the pre- 
vious assurance, preferred his claim. It was disregarded, 
and Mr. Collier, afterwards Earl of Portmore, was appoint- 
ed over his head. It would seem that Grahame had 
suspected some foul play on the part of this gentleman, 
for, shortly after, they accidentally met and had an angry 
altercation. This circumstance having come to the ears 
of the Prince, he sent for Captain Grahame, and adminis- 
tered a sharp rebuke. I give the remainder of this 



62 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

incident in the words of the old writer, because it must 
be considered a very remarkable one, as illustrating the 
fiery spirit and dauntless independence of Claverhouse. 

" The Captain answered, that he was indeed in the 
■wrong, since it was more his Highness's business to have 
resented that quarrel than his ; because Mr. Collier had 
less injured him in disappointing him of the regiment, 
than he had done his Highness in making him break his 
word. ' Then,' replied the Prince in an angry tone, ' I 
make you full reparation ; for I bestow on you what is 
more valuable than a regiment, when I give you your 
right arm ! ' The Captain subjoined, that since his High- 
ness had the goodness to give him his liberty, he resolved 
to employ himself elsewhere, for he would not longer serve 
a Prince that had broken his word. 

" The Captain, having thus thrown up his commission, 
was preparing in haste for his voyage, when a messenger 
arrived from the Prince, with two hundred guineas for 
the horse on which he had saved his life. The Captain 
sent the horse, but he ordered the gold to be distributed 
among the grooms of the Prince's stable. It is said, 
however, that his Highness had the generosity to write to 
the King and the Duke, recommending him as a fine 
gentleman and a brave officer, fit for any office, civil or 
military."* 

On his arrival in Britain he was well received by the 
Court, and immediately appointed to a high military com- 
mand in Scotland. It would be beyond the scope of the 
present paper to enter minutely into the details of his 
service during the stormy period when Scotland was cer- 
tainly misgoverned and when there was little unity, but 
much disorder in the land. In whatever point of view 
we regard the history of those times, the aspect is a mourn- 

* Memoirs of the Lord Viscount of Dundee. London: 17 14. 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. dT^ 

ful one indeed. Church and State never was a popular 
cry in Scotland ; and the peculiar religious tendencies 
which had been exhibited by a large portion of the nation, 
at the time of the Reformation, rendered the return of tran- 
quillity hopeless, until the hierarchy was displaced, and a 
humbler form of church government, more suited to the 
feelings of the people, substituted in its stead. 

Three years after the accession of James VII., Claver- 
house was raised to the peerage, by the title of Lord 
Viscount of Dundee. He was major-general and second 
in command of the royal forces when the Prince of Orange 
landed ; and he earnestly entreated King James to be 
allowed to march against him, offering to stake his head 
on the successful result of the enterprise. There can be 
little doubt, from the great popularity of Lord Dundee 
with the army, that, had such consent been given, William 
would have found more than a match in his old officer ; 
but the King seemed absolutely infatuated, and refused 
to allow a drop of blood to be shed in his quarrel, though 
the great bulk of the population of England were clearly 
and enthusiastically in his favor. A modern poet, the 
Honorable George Sydney Smythe, has well illustrated 
this event in the following spirited lines : — 

"Then out spake gallant Claverhouse, and his soul thrilled wide and 

high, 
And he showed the King his subjects, and he prayed him not to fly. 
Oh, never yet was captain so dauntless as Dundee — 
He has sworn to chase the Hollander back to his Zuyder-Zee ! " 

But though James quitted his kingdom, the stern loyalty 
of Dundee was nothing moved. Alone and without escort 
iie traversed England, and presented himself at the Con- 
vention of Estates, then assembled at Edinburgh for the 
purpose of receiving the message from the Prince of 
Orange. The meeting was a verv strange one. Manv of 



64 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

the nobility and former members of the Scottish ParHament 
had absolutely declined attending it, — some on the ground 
that it was not a legal assembly, having been summoned 
by the Prince of Orange ; and others because, in such a 
total disruption of order, they judged it safest to abstain 
from taking any prominent part. This gave an immense 
ascendancy to the Revolution party, who further proceeded 
to strengthen their position by inviting to Edinburgh large 
bodies of the armed population of the west. After defend- 
ing for several days the cause of his master, with as much 
eloquence as vigor, Dundee, finding that the majority of 
the Convention were resolved to offer the crown of Scot- 
land to the Prince, and having moreover received sure in- 
formation that some of the wild frantic Whigs, with Daniel 
Ker of Kersland at their head, had formed a plot for his 
assassination, quitted Edinburgh with about fifty horse- 
men, and, after a short interview — celebrated by Sir Walter 
Scott in one of his grandest ballads — with the Duke of 
Gordon at the Castle rock, directed his steps towards the 
north. After a short stay at his house of Dudhope, during 
which he received, by order of the Council, who were 
thoroughly alarmed at his absence, a summons through a 
Lyon-herald to return to Edinburgh under pain of high 
treason, he passed into the Gordon country, where he was 
joined by the Earl of Dunfermline with a small party of 
about sixty horse. His retreat was timeous, for General 
Mackay, who commanded for the Prince of Orange, had 
despatched a strong force, with instructions to make him 
prisoner. From this time until the day of his death he 
allowed himself no repose. Imitating the example and 
inheriting the enthusiasm of his great predecessor Montrose, 
he invoked the loyalty of the clans to assist him in the 
struggle for legitimacy, — and he did not appeal to them in 
vain. His name was a spell to rouse the ardent spirits of 
the mountaineers ; and not the Great Marquess himself, in^ 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 65 

the height of his renown, was more sincerely welcomed 
and more fondly loved than " Ian dim nan Cath," — dark 
John of the battles, — the name by which Lord Dundee 
is still remembered in Highland song. In the mean time 
the Convention, terrified at their danger, and dreading a 
Highland inroad, had despatched Mackay, a military 
officer of great experience, with a considerable body cf 
troops, to quell the threatened insurrection. He was en- 
countered by Dundee, and compelled to evacuate the high 
country and fall back upon the Lowlands, where he sub- 
sequently received reinforcements, and again marched 
northward. The Highland host was assembled at Blair, 
though not in great force, when the news of Mackay's 
advance arrived ; and a council of the chiefs and officers 
was summoned, to determine whether it would be most 
advisable to fall back upon the glens and wild fastnesses 
of the Highlands, or to meet the enemy at once, though 
with a far inferior force. 

Most of the old officers, wno had been trained in the 
foreign wars, were of the former opinion — "alleging that 
it was neither prudent nor cautious to risk an engagement 
against an army of disciplined men, that exceeded theirs 
in number by more than a half." But both Glengarry 
and Locheill, to the great satisfaction of the general, 
maintained the contrary view, and argued that neither 
hunger nor fatigue were so likely to depress the High- 
landers as a retreat when the enemy was in view. The 
account of the discussion is so interesting, and so charac- 
teristic of Dundee, that I shall take leave to quote its 
termination in the words of Drummond of Balhaldy : — 

" An advice so hardy and resolute could not miss to 
please the generous Dundee. His looks seemed to heighten 
with an air of delight and satisfaction all the while Loch- 
eill was speaking. He told his council that they had 
heard his sentiments from the mouth of a person who had 



66 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

formed his judgment upon infallible proofs drawn from a 
long experience, and an intimate acquaintance with the 
persons and subject he spoke of. Not one in the company 
offering to contradict their general, it was unanimously 
agreed to light. 

" When the news of this vigorous resolution spread 
through the army, nothing was heard but acclamations of 
joy, which exceedingly pleased their gallant general ; but 
before the council broke up, Locheill begged to be heard 
for a few words. ' My Lord,' said he, ' I have just now 
declared, in presence of this honorable company, that I 
wa^ resolved to give an implicit obedience to all your Lord- 
ship's commands ; but I humbly beg leave in name of these 
gentlemen, to give the word of command for this one time. 
It is the voice of your council, and their orders are that 
you do not engage personally. Your Lordship's business 
is to have an eye on all parts, and to issue out your com- 
mands as you shall think proper ; it is ours to execute them 
with promptitude and courage- On your Lordship de- 
pends the f.ite, not only of this liitle brave army, but also 
of our King and country. If your Lordship deny us this 
reasonable demand, for my own part I declare, that neither 
I, nor any I am concerned in, shall draw a sword on this 
important occasion, whatever construction shall be put upon 
the matter.' 

" Locheill was seconded in this by the whole council ; but 
Dundee begged leave to be heard in his turn. ' Gentle- 
men,' said he, ' as I am absolutely convinced, and have had 
repeated proofs, of your zeal for the King's service and 
of your affection to me as his general and your friend, so I 
am fully sensible that my engaging personally this day 
may be of some loss if I shall chance to be killed. But I 
beg leave of you, however, to allow me to give one s/iear 
darg (that is, one harvest-day's work) to the King, my 
master, that I may have an ojDportunity of convincing the 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 67 

brave clans that I can hazard my life in that service as 
freely as the meanest of them. Ye know their temper, 
gentlemen ; and if they do not think I have personal 
courage enough they will not esteem me hereafter, nor 
obey my commands with cheerfulness. Allow me this 
single favor, and I here promise, upon my honor, never 
again to risk mv person while 1 have that of commanding 
you." 

" The council, finding him intiexible, broke up, and the 
army marched directly towards the Pass of Killiecrankie." 

Those who have visited that romantic spot need not be 
reminded of its peculiar features, for these, once seen, must 
dwell for ever in the memory. The lower part of the 
Pass is a stupendous mountain-chasm, scooped out by the 
waters of the Garry, which here descend in a succession 
of roaring cataracts and pools. The old road, which ran 
almost parallel to the river and close upon its edge, was 
extremely narrow, and wound its way beneath a wall of 
enormous crags, surmounted by a natural forest of birch, 
oak and pine. An army cooped up in that gloomy ravine 
would have as little chance of escape from the onset of an 
enterprising partisan corps, as had the Bavarian troops 
v.'hen attacked by the Tyrolese in the steep defiles of the 
Inn. General Mackay, however, had made his arrange- 
ments with consummate tact and skill, and had calculated 
his time so well, that he was enabled to clear the Pass be- 
fore the Highlanders could reach it from the other side. 
Advancing upwards, the passage becomes gradually broader 
until, just below the House of Urrard, there is a consid- 
erable width of meadow-land. It was here that Mackay 
took up his position, and arrayed his troops, on observing 
that the heights above were occupied by the army of 
Dundee. 

The forces of the latter scarcely amounted to one-third 
of those of his antagonist, which were drawn up in line 



68 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

without any reserve. He was therefore compelled, in 
making his dispositions, to leave considerable gaps in his 
own line, which gave Mackay a further advantage. The 
right of Dundee's army was formed of the M'Lean, Glen- 
garry, and Clanranald regiments, along with some Irish 
levies. In the centre was Dundee himself, at the head of 
a small and ill-equipped body of cavalry, composed of 
Lowland gentlemen and their followers, and about forty 
of his old troopers. The Camerons and Skyemen, under 
the command of Locheill and Sir Donald Macdonald of 
Sleat, were stationed on the left. During the time oc- 
cupied by these dispositions, a brisk cannonade was opened 
by Mackay's artillery, which materially increased the im- 
patience of the Highlanders to come to close quarters. At 
last the word was given to advance, and the whole line 
rushed forward with the terrilic impetuosity peculiar to a 
charge of the clans. They received the fire of the regular 
troops without flinching, reserved their own until they 
were close at hand, poured in a murderous volley, and then 
throwing away their firelocks, attacked the enemy with the 
broadsword. 

The victory was almost instantaneous, but it was bought 
at a terrible price. Through some mistake or misunder- 
standing, a portion of the cavalry, instead of following their 
general, who had charged directly for the guns, executed 
a manoeuvre which threw them into disorder ; and when 
last seen in the battle, Dundee, accompanied only by the 
Earl of Dunfermline and about sixteen gentlemen, was 
entering into the cloud of smoke, standing up in his stir- 
rups, and waving to the others to come on. It was in this 
altitude that he appears to have received his death-wound 
On returning from the pursuit, the Highlanders found him 
dying on the field. 

It would be difficult to point out another instance in 
which the maintenance of a great cause depended solely 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 69 

upon the life of a single man. Whilst Dundee survived, 
Scotland at least was not lost to the Stuarts, for shortly 
before the battle he had received assurance that the greater 
part of the organized troops in the north were devoted to 
his person, and ready to join him ; and the victory of Killie- 
crankie would have been followed by a general rising of 
the loyal gentlemen in the Lowlands. But witli his fall the 
enterprise was over. 

I hope I shall not be accused of exaggerating the ini- 
poitance of this battle, which, according to llie writer I 
have already quoted, was best proved by the consternation 
into which the opposite party were thrown at the first news 
of Mackay's defeat. " The Duke of Hamilton, commis- 
sioner for the pailiament which then sat at Edinburgh, and 
the rest of the ministry, were struck with such a panic, 
that some of them were for retiring into England, others 
into the western shires of Scotland, where all the people 
almost to a man, befriended them ; nor knew they whether 
to abandon the government, or to stay a few days until 
they saw what use my Lord Dundee would make of his 
victory. They knew the rapidity of his motions, and were 
convinced that he would allow them no time to deliberate. 
On this account it was debated, whether such of the no- 
bility and gentry as were confined for adhering to their 
old master, should be immediately set at liberty or more 
closely shut up; and though the last was determined on, 
yet the greatest revolutionists among them made private 
and frequent \'isits to these prisoners, excusing what was 
past, from a fatal necessity of the times, which obliged 
them to give a seeming compliance, but protesting that they 
always wished well to King James, as they should soon 
have occasion to show when my Lord Dundee advanced." 

" The next morning after the battle," snvs Drummond, 
■'the Highland arniv had mure the air of the shattered 



70 L.n'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

remains of broken troops than of conquerors ; for here it 
was hterally true that 

' The vanquished triumphed, and the victors mourned.' 

The death of their brave general, and the loss of so many 
of their friends, were inexhaustible fountains of grief and 
sorrow. They closed the last scene of this mournful tragedy 
in obsequies of their lamented general, and of the other 
gentlemen who fell with him, and interred them in the 
church of Blair of Atholl with a real funeral solemnity, 
there not being present one single person who did not 
participate in the general affliction." 

I close this notice of a great soldier and devoted loyal- 
ist, by transcribing the beautiful epitaph composed by Dr. 
Pitcairn : 

" Ultime Scotorum, potuit quo sospite solo 
Libertas patriae salva fuisse tuae : 
Te moriente, novos accepit Scotia cives, 
Accepitque novos, te moriente, deos. 
II la tibi superesse negat : tu non potes illi : 
Ergo Caledoniae nomen inane vale : 
Tuque vale, gentis priscae fortissims duct'or 
Optime Scotorum atque ultime — Grame, vale ! 




THE 

BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 



Sound the fife, and cry the slogan — 

Let the pibroch shake the air 
With its wild triumphal music, 

Worthy of the freight we bear. 
Let the ancient hills of Scotland 

Hear once more the battle-song 
Swell within their glens and valleys 

As the clansmen march along ! 
Never from the field of combat, 

Never from the deadly fray, 
Was a nobler trophy carried 

Then we bring with us to-day — 
Never, since the valiant Douglas 

On his dauntless bosom bore 
Good King Robert's heart — the priceless- 

To our dear Redeemer's shore ! 
Lo we bring with us the hero — 

Lo ! we bring the conquering GrDsme, 
Crowned as best beseems a victor 

From the altar of his fame ; 



U LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAl\lLlERS. 

Fresh and bleeding from the battle 

Whence his spirit took its flight, 
Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, 

And the thunder of the fight ! 
Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, 

As we march o'er moor and lea ! 
Is there any here will venture 

To bewail our dead Dundee ? 
Let the widows of the traitors 

Weep until their eyes are dim ! 
Wail ye may full well for Scotland — 

Let none dare to mourn for him ! 
See ! above his glorious body 

Lies the royal banner's fold — 
See ! his valiant blood is mingled — 

With its crimson and its gold — 
See how calm he looks, and stately, 

Like a warrior on his shield, 
Waiting till the flush of morning 

Breaks along the battle-field ! 
See — Oh never more, my comrades, 

Shall we see that falcon eye 
Redden with its inward lightning, 

As the hour of fight drew nigh. 
Never shall we hear the voice that, 

Clearer than the trumpet's call. 
Bade us strike for King and Country 

Bade us win the field, or fall ! 
II. 
On the heights of Killiecrankie 

Yester-morn our army lay : 
Slowly rose the mist in columns 

From the river's broken wav ; 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUXDEE 73 

Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, 

And the Pass was wrapt in gloom, 
When the clansmen rose together 

From their lair amidst the broom. 
Then we belted on our tartans, 

And our bonnets down we drew, 
And we felt our broadswords' edges, 

And we proved them to be true ; 
And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, 

And we cried the gathering-cry, 
And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, 

And we swore to do or die ; 
Then our leader rode before us 

On his war-horse black as night — 
Well the Cameronian rebels 

Knew that charger in the fight ! — 
And a cry of exultation 

From the bearded warriors rose ; 
For we loved the house of Claver'se, 

And we thought of good Montrose. 
But he raised his hand for silence — 

" Soldiers ! I have sworn a vow : 
Ere the evening star shall glisten 

On Schehallion's lofty brow. 
Either we shall rest in triumph, 

Or another of the Graemes 
Shall have died in battle-harness 

For his country and King James ! 
Think upon the Royal Martyr — 

Think of what his race endure — 
Think of him whom butchers murdered 

On the field of Magus Muir : — 



74 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAI'ALIERS. 

By his sacred blood I charge ye, 

By the ruined hearth and shrine — 
By the bhghted hopes of Scotland, 

By your injuries and mine — 
Strike this day as if the anvil 

Lay beneath your blows the while, 
Be they convenanting traitors, 

Or the brood of false Argyle ! 
Strike ! and drive the trembling rebels 

Backwards o'er the stormy Forth ; 
Let them tell their pale Convention 

How they fared within the North. 
Let them tell that Highland honor 

Is not to be bought nor sold, 
That we scorn their prince's anger 

As we loathe his foreign gold. 
Strike ! and when the fight is over, 

If ye look in vain for me, 
Where the dead are lying thickest. 

Search for him that was Dundee ! " 
III. 
Loudly then the hills re-echoed 

With our answer to his call, 
But a deeper echo sounded 

In the bosoms of us all. 
For the lands of wide Breadalbane, 

Not a man who heard him speak 
Would that day have left the battle. 

Burning eye and flushing cheek 
Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, . 

And they harder drew their breath : 
And their souls were strong within them, 

Stronger than the grasp of death. 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 75 

Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 

Sounding in the Pass below, 
And the distant tramp of horses, 

And the voices of the foe : 
Down we crouched amid the bracken, 

Till the Lowland ranks drew near, 
Panting" like the hounds in summer, 

When they scent the stately deer. 
From the dark defile emerging, 

Next we saw the squadrons come, 
Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers 

Marching to the tuck of drum ; 
Through the scattered wood of birches, 

O'er the broken ground and heath, 
Wound the long battalion slowly, 

Till they gained the plain beneath ; 
Then we bounded from our covert — 

Judge how looked the Saxons then, 
When they saw the rugged mountain 

Start to life with armed men ! 
Like a tempest down the ridges 

Swept the hurricane of steel, 
Rose the slogan of Macdonald — 

Flashed the broadsword of Locheill ! 
Vainly sped the withering volley 

'Mongst the foremost of our band- 
On we poured until we met them. 

Foot to foot, and hand to hand. 
Horse and man went down like drift-wood 

When the floods are black at Yule, 
And their carcasses are whirling 

In the Garry's deepest pool. 



76 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Horse and man went down before lis — 
Living" foe there tarried none 

On the field of KiUiecrankie, 

When that stubborn fight was done ! 

IV. 

And the evening star was shining 

On Schehallion's distant head, 
When we wiped our bloody broadswords, 

And returned to count the dead. 
There we found him gashed and gory. 

Stretched upon the cumbered plain, 
As he told us where to seek him, 

In the thickest of the slain. 
And a smile was on his visage, 

For within his dying ear 
Pealed the joyful note of triumph, 

And the clansman's clamorous cheer ; 
So amidst the battle's thunder. 

Shot, and steel, and scorching flame. 
In the glory of his manhood 

Passed the spirit of the Graeme ! 



Open wide the vaults of Atholl, 

Where the bones of heroes rest — 
Open wide the hallowed portals 

To receive another guest! 
Last of Scots and last of freemen — 

Last of all the dauntless race, 
Who would rather die unsullied 

Than outlive the land's disgrace! 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUADEE. 77 

O thou lion-hearted warrior ! 

Reck not of the after-time : 
Honor may be deemed dishonor, 

Loyalty be called a crime. 
Sleep in peace with kindred ashes 

Of the noble and the true, 
Hands that never failed their country, 

Hearts that nev^er baseness knew. 
Sleep ! — and till the latest trumpet 

Wakes the dead from earth and sea, 
Scotland shall not boast a braver 

Chieftain than our own Dundee ! 




THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 



The INIassacre of Glencoe is an event which neither can 
nor ought to be forgotten. It was a deed of the worst 
treason and cruelty — a barbarous infraction of all laws, 
human and divine ; and it exhibits in their foulest perfidy 
the true characters of the authors and abettors of the 
Revolution. 

After the battle of Killiecrankie the cause of the Scot- 
tish royalists declined, rather from the want of a competent 
leader than from any disinclination on the part of a large 
section of the nobility and gentry to vindicate the right of 
King James. No person of adequate talents or authority 
was found to supply the place of the great and gal- 
lant Lord Dundee ; for General Cannon, who succeeded in 
command, was not only deficient in military skill, but did 
not possess the confidence, nor understand the character of 
the Highland chiefs, who, with their clansmen, constituted 
by far the most important section of the army. Accord- 
ingly no enterprise of any importance was attempted ; and 
the disastrous issue of the battle of the Boyne led to a 
negotiation which terminated in the entire disbanding of 
the royal forces. By this treaty, which was expressly sane- 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 79 

tioned by William of Orange, a full and unreserved indem- 
nity and pardon was granted to all of the Highlanders who 
had taken arms, with a proviso that they should first sub- 
scribe the oath of allegiance to William and Mary, before 
the 1st of January, 1692, in presence of the Lords of the 
Scottish Council, '" or of the sheriffs or their deputies of the 
respective shires wherein they lived." The letter of Wil- 
liam addressed to the Privy Council, and ordering proc- 
lamation to be made to the above effect, contained also 
the following significant passage : — " That ye communicate 
our pleasure to the Governor of Inverlochy, and other com- 
manders, that they be exact and diligent in their several 
posts ; but that they show no more zeal against the High- 
landers after their submission, tha:i they have ever done 
formerly when these were in open rebellion y 

This enigmatical sentence, which in reality was intended, 
as the sequel will show, to be interpreted in the most 
cruel manner, appears to have caused «nme perplexity in 
the Council, as that body deemed it necessary to apply 
for more distinct and specific instructions, wdiich, however, 
were not then issued. It had been especially stipulated 
by the chiefs, as an indispensable preliminary to their 
treaty, that they should have leave to communicate with 
King James, then residing at St. Germains, for the purpose 
of obtaining his permission and warrant previous to sub- 
mitting themselves to the existing government. That 
article had been sanctioned by William before the procla- 
mation was issued, and a special messenger was despatched 
to France for that purpose. 

In the mean time, troops were gradually and cautiously 
advanced to the confines of the Highlands, and, in some 
instances, actually quartered on the inhabitants. The con- 
dition of the country was perfectly tranquil. No disturb- 
ances whatever occurred in the north or west of Scotland ', 
Locheill and the other chiefs were awaiting the communi- 



8o LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

cation from St. Germains, and held themselves oound in 
honor to remain inactive ; whilst the remainder of the 
royalist forces (for whom separate terms had been made) 
were left unmolested at Dunkeld. 

But rumors, which are too clearly traceable to the emis- 
saries of the new Government, asserting the preparation 
made for an immediate landing of King James at the head 
of a large body of the French, were industriously circulated 
and by many were implicitly believed. The infamous 
policy which dictated such a course is now apparent. The 
term of the amnesty or truce granted by the proclamation 
expired with the year 1691, and all who had not taken the 
oath of allegiance before that term were to be proceeded 
against with the utmost severity. The proclamation was 
issued upon the 29th of August ; consequently, only four 
months were allow-ed for the complete submission of the 
Highlanders. 

Not one of the chiefs subscribed until the mandate from 
King James arrived. That document, which is dated from 
St. Germains on the 12th of December, 1691, reached 
Dunkeld eleven days afterwards, and consequently, but a 
very short time before the indemnity expired. The bearer, 
Major Menzies, was so fatigued that he could proceed no 
farther on his journey, but forwarded the mandate by an 
express to the commander of the royal forces, who was 
then at Glengarry. It was therefore impossible that the 
document could be circulated through the Highlands within 
the prescribed period. Locheill, says Drummond of Bal- 
haldy, did not receive his copy till about thirty hours be- 
fore the time was out, and appeared before the sheriff at 
Inverara, where he took the oaths upon the very day on 
which the indemnity expired. 

That a general massacre throughout the Highlands was 
contemplated by the Whig Government is a fact establish- 
ment bv overwhelming evidence. In the course of the sub- 



THE WIDOW OF GLEACOE. 8i 

sequent investigation before tlie Scots Parliament, letters 
were produced from Sir John Dalrymple, then Master of 
Stair, one of the secretaries of state in attendance upon 
the Court, which too clearly indicate the intentions of 
William. In one of these, dated ist December, i6gi, — a 
month, be it observed, before the amnesty expired, — and 
addressed to Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, there are the 
following words : " The winter is the only season in which 
we are sure the Highlanders cannot escape us nor carry 
their 7C'/7'(\f, bairns^ and cattle to the mountains." And in 
another letter, written only two days afterwards, he says, 
" It is the only time that they cannot escape you, for human 
constitution cannot endure to be long out of houses. 21iis 
is a proper seasoji to niaule them in the cold hmg nights." And 
in January, thereafter, he informed Sir Thomas Livingston 
that the design was " to destroy entirely the country of 
Lochaber, Locheill's lands, Keppoch's, Glengarry's, Appin, 
and Glencoe. " I assure you," he continues, " your power 
shall be full enough, a7id I hope the soldiers will not trouble 
the Govcrntncnt with prisoners.'''' 

Locheill was more fortunate than others of his friends 
and neighbors. According to Drummond, — '• Major 
Menzies, who, upon his arrival, had observed the whole 
forces of the kingdom ready to invade the Highlands, as 
he wrote to General Buchan, foreseeing the unhappy con- 
sequences, not only begged that general to send expresses 
to all parts with orders immediately to submit, but also 
wrote to Sir Thomas Livingston, praying him to supplicate 
the Council for a prorogation of the time, in regard that 
he was so excessively fatigued, that he was obliged to stop 
some days to repose a little ; and that though he should 
send expresses, yet it was impossible they could reach the 
distant parts in such time as to allow the several persons 
concerned the benefit of the indemnity within the space 
limited ; besides, that some persons having put the High- 



82 DAi'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

\ landers in a bad temper, he was confident to persuade 
\ them to submit, if a further time were allowed. Sir Thomas 
I presented this letter to the Council on the 5th of January, 
\ 1692, but they refused to give any answer, and ordered him 
\ to transmit the same to Court." 

I The reply of William of Orange was a letter, counter- 
\ signed by Dalrymple, in which, upon the recital that 
] " several of the chieftains and many of their clans have not 
i taken the benefit of our gracious indemnity," he gave orders 
\ for a general massacre. " To the end, we have given Sir 
I Thomas Livingston orders to employ our troops (which we 
\ have already conveniently posted) to cut off these obsti- 
I nate rebels <^_>' (?// manner of hostility ; and we do require 
i you to give him your assistance and concurrence in all 
\ other things that may conduce to that service ; and because 
\ these rebels, to avoid our forces, may draw themselves, 
i their families, goods, or cattle, to lurk or be concealed 
! among their neighbors ; therefore we require and author- 
►; ize j-ou to emit a proclamation, to be published at the 
r market-crosses of these or the adjacent shires where the 
\ rebels reside, discharging upon the highest penalties the 
I law allows, any reset, correspondence, or intercommuning 
I Avith these rebels." This monstrous mandate, which was in 
\ fact the death-warrant of many thousand innocent people, 
I no distinction being made of age or sex, would, in all 
human probability, have been put into execution, but for 
the remonstrance of one high-minded nobleman. Lord 
Carmarthen, afterwards Duke of Leeds, accidentally be- 
came aware of the proposed massacre, and personally re- 
monstrated with the monarch against a measure which he 
denounced as at once cruel and impolitic. After much 
discussion, William, influenced rather by an apprehension 
that so savage and sweeping an act might prove fatal to 
his new authority, than by any compunction or impulse of 
humanity, agreetl to recall the general order, and to limit 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCGE. 83 

himself, in the first instance, to a single deed of butchery 
by way of testing the temper of the nation. Some diffi- 
culty seems to have arisen in the selection of the fittest 
victim. Both Keppoch and Glencoe were named, but the 
personal rancor of Secretary Dalrymple decided the doom 
of the latter. The secretary wrote thus: — " Argyle tells 
me that Glencoe hath not taken the oath, at which I rejoice. 
It is a great work of charity to be exact in rooting out that 
damnable set." The final instructions regarding Glencoe, 
which were issued on i6th January, 1692, are as fellows : — 

" William R. — As for M'lan of Glencoe and that tribe, if they can 
be well distinguished from the rest of the Highlanders, it will be prop- 
er for public justice to extirpate that set of thieves. 

'• W. R." 

This letter is remarkable as being signed and counter- 
signed by William alone, contrary to the usual practice. 
The secretary was no doubt desirous to screen himself from 
after responsibility, and was besides aware that the royal 
signature would insure a rigorous execution of the sen- 
tence. 

Macdonald, or, as he w^as more commonly designated, 
M'lan of Glencoe, was the head of a considerable sept or 
branch of the great Clan-Coila, and was lineally descended 
from the ancient Lords of the Isles, and from the royal 
family of Scotland — the common ancestor of the Macdon- 
alds having espoused a daughter of Robert II. He was, 
according to a contemporary testimony, "a person of great 
integrity, honor, good-nature, and courage : and his loy- 
alty to his old master, King James, was such, that he 
continued in arms from Dundee's first appearing in the 
Highlands, till the fatal treaty that brought on his ruin." 
In common with the other chiefs, he had omitted taking 
the benefit of the indemnity until he received the sanction 



84 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

of King James ; but the copy of that document which was 
forwarded to him, unfortunately arrived too late. Tlie 
weather was so excessively stormy at the time that there 
was no possibility of penetrating from Glencoe to Inverara, 
the place where the sheriff resided, before the expiry of the 
stated period ; and M'lan accordingly adopted the only 
practicable mode of signifying his submission, by making 
his way with great difficulty to Fort William, then called 
Inverlochy, and tendering his signature to the military 
Governor there. That officer was not authorized to receive 
it, but, at the earnest entreaty of the chief, he gave him a 
certificate of his appearance and tender ; and on New- 
Year's day, 1692, M'lan reached Inverara, where he pro- 
duced that paper as evidence of his intentions, and prevailed 
upon the sheriiT, Sir James Campbell, of Ardkinglass, to 
administer the oaths required. After that ceremony, which 
was immediately intimated to the Privy Council, had been 
performed, the imfortunate gentleman returned home, in 
the full conviction that he had thereby made peace with 
the Government for himself and for his clan. But his doom 
was already sealed. 

A company of the Earl of Argyle's regiment had been 
previously quartered at Glencoe. These men, though 
Campbells, and hereditarily obnoxious to the Macdonalds, 
Camerons, and other of the loyal clans, were yet country- 
men, and were kindly and hospitably received. Their cap- 
tain, Robert Campbell, of Glenl3'on, was connected with 
the family of Glencoe through the marriage of a niece, and 
was resident under the roof of the chief. And yet this 
was the very troop selected for the horrid service. 

Special instructions were sent to the major of the regiment, 
one Duncanson, then quartered at Ballachulish, — a morose, 
brutal, and savage man. — who accordingly wrote to Camp- 
bell, of Glenlvon, in the following terms : — 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 85 

" Ballacholis, 12 Feb., 1692. 
" Sir, — You are hereby ordered to fall upon the rebels, the M'Don- 
alds of Glencoe, and putt all to the sword under seventy. You are to 
have special care that the old fox and his sons doe upon no account 
escape your hands. You are to secure all the avenues, that no man 
escape. This you are to put in execution att five o'clock in the morn- 
ing precisely, and by that time, or very shortly after it, I'll strive to 
be att you with a stronger party. If I doe not come to you att five, you 
are not to tarry for me, but to fall on. This is by the king's special] 
command, for the good and safety of the country, that these miscreants 
be cult off root and branch. See that this be putt in execution without 
feud or favour, else you may expect to be treated as not true to the 
king's government, nor a man fitt to carry a commission in the king's 
service. Expecting you will not faill in the fulfilling hereof as you 
love yourself, I subscribe these with my hand. 

" Robert Duncanson. 
" For then: Majesty's service, 
" To Captain Robert Cantpbe l, of Glejtlyoti." 

This order was but too literally obeyed. At the appoint- 
ed hour, when the whole inhabitants of the glen were 
asleep, the work of murder began. M'lan was one of the 
first who fell. Drummond's narrative fills up the remain- 
der of the dreadful story. 

" They then served all within the family in the same 
manner, without distinction of age or person. In a word, 
— for the horror of that execrable butchery must give pain 
to the reader,— they left none alive but a young child, who 
being frightened with the noise of the guns, and the dismal 
shrieks and cries of its dying parents, whom they were a- 
murderingjgot hold of Captain Campbell's knees, and wrapt 
itself within his cloak ; by which, chancing to move com- 
passion, the captain inclined to have saved it, but one 
Drummond, an officer, arriving about the break of day 
with more troops, commanded it to be shot by a file of 
musqueteers. Nothing could be more shocking and horri- 
ble than the prospect of these houses bestrewed with man- 
gled bodies of the dead, covered with blood, and resound- 
ing with the groans of wretches in the last agonies of life. 



86 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

"I'wo sons of Glencoe's were the only persons that 
escaped in that quarter of the country ; for, growing jealous 
of some ill designs from the behavior of the soldiers, they 
stole from their beds a few minutes before the tragedy 
began, and, chancing to overhear two of them discoursing 
plainly of the matter, they endeavored to have advertised 
their father ; but finding that impracticable, they ran to 
the other end of the country and alarmed the inhabitants. 
There was another accident that contributed much to their 
safety ; for the night was so excessively stormy and tem- 
l^estuous, that four hundred soldiers, who were appointed 
to murder those people, were stopped in their march from 
Inverlochy, and could not get up till the}' had time to save 
themselves. To cover the deformity of so dreadful a sight, 
the soldiers burned all the houses to the ground, ;;ftcr hav- 
ing rifled them, carried away nine hundred cows, two hun- 
dred horses, numberless herds of sheep and goats, and 
everything else that belonged to these miserable people. 
Lamentable was the case of the women and children that 
escaped the butchery : the mountains were covered with a 
deep snow, the rivers impassable, storm and tempest filled 
the air and added to the horrors and darkness of the 
night, and there were no houses to shelter them within many 
miles."* 

Such was the awful massacre of Glencoe, an event which 
has left an indelible and execrable stain upon the memory of 
William of Orange. The records of Indian warfare can 
hardly afford a parallel instance of atrocity ; and this deed, 
coupled with his deliberate treachery in the Darien scheme, 
whereby Scotland was for a time absolutely ruined, is 
sufficient to account fir the little estimation in which the 
name of the " great Whig deliverer " is still regarded in 
the valleys of the North. 

* Memoirs of Sir Eioen Cameron Lochill. 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 



Do not lift him from the bracken, 

Leave him lying where he fell — 
Better bier ye cannot fashion : 

None beseems him half so well 
As the bare and broken heather, 

And the hard and trampled sod, 
Whence his angry soul ascended 

To the jiiclgment-seat of God ! 
Winding-sheet we cannot give him — 

Seek no mantle for the dead. 
Save the cold and spotless covering 

Showered from heaven upon his head. 
Leave his broadsword as we found it, 

Bent and broken with the blow, 
Which, before he died, avenged him 

On the foremost of the foe. 
Leave the blood upon his bosom — 

Wash not off tliat sacred stain ; 
Let it stiffen on the tartan. 

Let his wounds unclosed remain, 



88 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Till the clay when he shall show them 
At the throne of God on high, 

When the murderer and the murdered 
Meet before their Judge's eye ! 

II. 
Nay, ye should not weep, my children ; 

Leave it to the faint and weak ; 
Sobs are but a women's weapon — 

Tears befit a maiden's cheek. 
Weep not, children of Macdonald ! 

Weep not thou, his orphan heir — 
Not in shame, but stainless honor, 

Lies thy slaughtered father there. 
Weep not — but when years are over, 

And thine arm is strong and sure, 
And thy foot is swift and steady 

On the mountain and the muir — 
Let thy heart be hard as iron, 

And thy wrath as fierce as fire, 
Till the hour when vengeance cometh 

For the race that slew thy sire ! 
Till in deep and dark Glenlyon 

Rise a louder shriek of woe, 
Than at midnight, from their eyrie, 

Scared the eagles of Glencoe : 
Louder than the screams that mingled 

With the howling of the blast. 
When the murderer's steel was clashing. 

And the fires were rising fast ; 
When the noble father bounded 

To the rescue of his men. 
And the slogan of our kindred 

Pealed thouehout the startled alen ! 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 89 

When the herd of frantic women 

Stumbled through the midnight snow, 
With their fathers' houses blazing, 

And their dearest dead below ! 
Oh. the horror of the tempest, 

As the flashing drift was blown, 
Crimsoned with the conflagration, 

And the roofs went thundering down ! 
Oh, the prayers— the prayers and curses 

That together winged their flight 
From the maddened hearts of many ^ 
Through that long and wof ul night ! 
Till the fires began to dwindle, 

And the shots grew faint and few, 
And we heard the foeman's challenge 

Only in a far halloo : 
Till the silence once more settled 

O'er the gorges of the glen, 
Broken only by the Cona 

Plunging through its naked den. 
Slowly from the mountain-summit 
Was the drifting veil withdrawn, 
And the ghastly valley glimmered 

In the grey December dawn. 
Better had the morning never 

Dawned upon our dark despair ! 
Black amidst the common whiteness 

Rose the spectral ruins there : 
But the sight of these was nothing 

More than wrings the wild-dove's breast, 
When she searches for her offspring 
Round the relics of her nest. 



90 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

For in many a spot the tartan 

Peered above the wintry heap, 
Marking where a dead Macdonald 

Lay within his frozen sleep. 
Trembhngly we scooped the covering 

From each kindred victim's head, 
And the living lips were burning 

On the cold ones of the dead, 
And I left them with their dearest — 

Dearest charge had every one — 
Left the maiden with her lover, 

Left the mother with her son. 
I alone of all was mateless — 

Far more wretched I than they. 
For the snow would not discover 

Where my lord and husband lay. 
But I wandered up the valley, 

Till I found him lying low, 
With the gash upon his bosom 

And the frown upon his brow — 
Till I found him lying murdered, 

Where he wooed me long ago ! 

III. 

Women's weakness shall not shame me— 

Why should I have tears to shed .-• 
Could I rain them down like water, 

Oil my hero ! on thy head — 
Could the cry of lamentation 

Wake thee from thy silent sleep 
Could it set thy heart a-throbbing 

It were mine to wail and weep I 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 

But I will not waste my sorrow, 

Lest the Campbell women say 
That the daughters of Clanranald 

Are as weak and frail as they. 
I had wept thee hadst thou fallen, 

Like our fathers, on thy shield, 
When a host of English foemen 

Camped upon a Scottish field — 
1 had mourned thee, hadst thou perished 

With the foremost of his name. 
When the valiant and the noble 

Died around the dauntless Graeme! 
But I will not wrong thee, husband ! 

With my unavailing cries, 
Whilst thy cold and mangled body 

Stricken by the traitor lies ; 
Whilst he counts the gold and glory 

That this hideous night has won. 
And his heart is big with triumph 

At the murder he has done. 
Other eyes than mine shall glisten. 

Other hearts be rent in twain, 
Ere the heathbells on thy hillock 

Wither in the autumn rain 
Then I'll seek thee where thou sleepest, 

And I'll veil my weary head, 
Praying for a place beside thee. 

Dearer than my bridal bed : 
And I'll give thee tears, my husband ! 

If the tears remain to me, 
When the widows of the foeman 

Cry the coronach for thee ! 




THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 



In consequence of a capitulation with Government, the 
regular troops who had served under Lord Dundee were 
conveyed to France ; and, immediately upon their landing, 
the officers and others had their rank confirmed according 
the tenor of tlie commissions and characters which they 
bore in Scotland. They were distributed throughout the 
different garrisons in the north of France, and, though 
nominally in the service of King James, derived their 
whble means of subsistence from the bounty of the French 
monarch. So long as it appeared probable that another 
descent was meditated, these gentlemen, who were, almost 
without exception, men of considerable family, assented to 
this arrangement ; but the destruction of the French fleet 
under Admiral Tourville, off La Hogue, led to a material 
change in their views. After that naval engagement it 
became obvious that the cause of the fugitive king was in 
the mean time desperate, and the Scottish officers, with no 
less gallantry than honor, volunteered a sacrifice which 
so far as I know, has hardly been equalled. 

The old and interesting pamphlet written by one of the 
corps,* from which I have extracted most of the following 

* Aji Account of Dundee's Officers after they zve/tt to France. By an 
officer of the army. London: 17 14. 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 93 

details, but which is seldom perused except by the anti- 
quary, states that " The Scottish officers considering that, 
by the loss of the French fleet, King James's restoration 
would be retarded for some time, and that they were bur- 
densome to the King of France, being .entertained in gar- 
risons on whole pay, without doing duty, when he had 
almost all Europe in confederacy against him, therefore 
humbly entreated Kingjam-s to have them reduced into 
a company of private sentinels, and chose officers amongst 
themselves to command them ; assuring his Majesty that 
they would serve in the meanest circumstances, and under- 
go the greatest hardships and fatigues, that reason could 
imagine or misfortunes inflict, until it pleased God to re- 
store him. King James commended their generosity and 
loyalty, but disapproved of what they proposed, and told 
them it was impossible that gentlemen, who had served in 
so honorable posts as formerly they had enjoyed, and lived 
in so great plenty and ease, could ever undergo the fatigue 
and hardships of private sentinels' duty. Again, that his 
own first command was a company of officers, whereof 
several died ; others, wearied with fatigue, drew their dis- 
charges ; till at last it dwindled into nothing, and he got 
no reputation by the command ; therefore he desired them 
to insist no more on that project. The officers (notwith- 
standing his Majesty's desire to the contrary) made several 
interests at court, and harassed him so much, that at last 
he condescended," and appointed those who were to com- 
mand them. 

Shortly afterwards, the new corps was reviewed for the 
first and last time by the unfortunate James in the gardens 
of St. Germains, and the tears are said to have gushed 
from his eyes at the sight of so many brave men, reduced, 
through their disinterested and persevering loyalty, to so 
\ery humble a condition. " Gentlemen," said he, " my 
own misfortunes are not so nigh my heart as yours. It 



94 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

grieves me beyond what I can express to see so many 
brave and worthy gentlemen, who had once the prospect 
of being the chief otficers in my army, reduced to the sta- 
tions of private sentinels. Nothing but your loyalty, and 
that of a few of -my subjects in Britain, who are forced 
from their allegiance by the Prince of Orange, and who, I 
know, will be ready on all occasions to serve me and my 
distressed family, could make me willing to live. The 
sense of what all of you have done and undergone for 
your loyalty, hath made so deep an impression upon my 
heart, that if it ever please God to restore me, it is impos- 
sible I can be forgetful of your services and sufferings. 
Neither can thore be any posts in the armies of my domin- 
ions but what you have just pretensions to. As for my 
son, your Prince, he is of your own blood, a child capable 
of any impression, and, as his education will be from you, 
it is not supposable that he can forget your merits. At 
vour own desires you are now going a long march far dis- 
tant from me. Fear God and love one another. Write 
your wants particularly to me, and depend upon it always 
to find me your parent and King." The scene bore a 
strong resemblance to one which many years afterwards 
occurred at Fontainebleau. The company listened to his 
words with deep emotion, gathered round him, as if half 
repentant of their own desire to go ; and so parted, for 
ever on this earth, the dethroned monarch and his exiled 
subjects. 

The number of this company of ofificers was about one 
hundred and twenty ; their destination was Perpignan, in 
Roussillon, close upon the frontier of Spain, where they 
were to join the army under the command of the Mareschal 
de Noailles. Their power of endurance, though often 
most severely tested in an unwholesome climate, seems to 
have been no less remarkable than their gallantry, which 
upon many occasions called forth the warm acknowledg- 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 95 

ment of the French commanders. '■'■ Le gcntilhojnmc,'' said 
one of the generals, in acknowledgment of their readiness 
at a peculiarly critical moment, " est toiijours geniilhomme, 
et se mo/ifre to 11 Jours tel dans Ic besoin et dans Ic danger'' — a 
eulogy as applicable to them as it was in later days to La 
Tour d'Auvergne, styled the first grenadier of France. At 
Perpignan they were joined by two other Scottish com- 
panies, and the three seem to have continued to serve 
together for several campaigns. 

As a proof of the estimation in which they were held, I 
shall merely extract a short account of the taking of Rosas, 
in Catalonia, before referring to the exploit which forms 
the subject of the following ballad. " On the 27th of May, 
the company of officers, and other Scottish companies, 
were joined by two companies of Irish, to make up a bat- 
talion in order to mount the trenches ; and the major part 
of the officers enlisted themselves in the company of gren- 
adiers, under the command of the brave Major Rutherford, 
who, on his way to the trenches, in sight of Mareschal cle 
Noailles and his court, marched with his company on the 
side of the trench, which exposed him to the fire of a bas- 
tion, where there were two culverins and several other 
guns planted ; likewise to the fire of two curtins lined with 
small shot. Colonel Brown, following with the battalion, 
was obliged, in honor, to march the same way Major 
Rutherford had done ; the danger whereof the Mareschal 
immediately perceiving, ordered one of his aides-de-camp 
to command Rutherford to march under cover of the 
trench, which he did ; and if he had but delayed six min- 
utes, the grenadiers and battalion had been cut to pieces. 
Rutherford, with his grenadiers, marched to a trench near 
the town, and the battalion to a trench on the rear and 
flank of the grenadiers, who fired so incessantly on the be- 
sieged, that they thought (the breach being practicable) 
thev were going to make their attacks, immediately beat a 



96 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

chamade, and were willing to give up the town upon rea- 
sonable terms ; but the Mareschal's demands were so ex 
orbitant that the Governor could not agree to them. Then 
firing began on both sides to be very hot ; and they in the 
town, seeing how the grenadiers lay, killed eight of them. 
When the Governor surrendered the town, he inquired of 
the Mareschal what countrymen these grenadiers were; 
and assured him it was on their account he delivered up 
the town, because they fired so hotly, that he believed they 
were resolved to r *ack the breach. He answered, smiling, 
*■ Ce sont mes enfans' — 'They are my children.' Again: 
'They are the King of Great Britain's Scottish officers, 
who, to show their willingness to share of his miseries, 
have reduced themselves to the carrying of arms, and 
chosen to serve under my command.' The next day, when 
the Mareschal rode along the front of the camp, he halted 
at the company of the officers' piquet, and they all sur- 
rounded him. Then, with his hat in his hand, he thanked 
them for their services in the trenches, and freely acknowl- 
edged it was their conduct and courage which compelled 
the Governor to give up the town ; and assured them he 
would acquaint his master with the same, which he did ; 
for when his son arrived with the news at Versailles, the 
King having read the letter, immediately took coach to St. 
Germains, and when he had shown King James the letter, 
he thanked him for the services his subjects had done in 
taking Rosas, in Catalonia ; who, with concern, replied, 
they were the stock of his British officers, and tliat he was 
sorry he could not make better provision for them." 

And a miserable provision it was ! They were gradually 
compelled to part with every remnant of the property which 
they had secured from the ruins of their fortunes ; so that 
when they arrived, after various adventures, at Scelestadt, 
in Alsace, they wsre literally without the common means 
of subsistence. Famine and the sword had by this time 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 91 

thinned their ranks, but had not diminished their spirit, as 
the following narrative of their last exploit will show : — 
. "In December, 1697, General Stirk, who commanded 
for the Germans, appeared with 16,000 men on the other 
side of the Rhine, which obliged the Marquis de Sell to 
draw out all the garrisons in Alsace, who made up about 
4,000 men ; and he encamped on the other side of the 
Rhine, over against General Stirk, to prevent his passing 
the Rhine and carrying a bridge over into an island in the 
middle of it, which the French foresaw would be of great 
prejudice to them. For the enemy's guns, placed on that 
island, would extremely gall their camp, which they could 
not hinder for the deepness of the water, and their wanting 
of boats — for which the Marquis quickly sent ; but arriving 
too late, the Germans had carried a bridge over into the 
island, where they had posted above 500 men, who, by 
order of their engineers, intrenched themselves ; which the 
company of officers perceiving, who always grasped after 
honor, and scorned all thoughts of danger, resolv'ed to 
wade the river, and attack the Germans in the island ; and 
for that effect, desired Captain John Foster, who then com- 
manded them, to beg of the Marquis that they might have 
liberty to attack the Germans in the island ; who told Cap- 
tain Foster, when the boats came up, that they should be 
the first that attacked. Foster courteously thanked the 
Marquis, and told him they would wade into the island, 
who shrunk up his shoulders, praj^ed God to bless them, 
and desired them to do what they pleased." Whereupon 
the officers, with the other two Scottish companies, made 
themselves ready ; and, having secured their arms round 
their necks, waded into the river hand-in-hand, "according 
to the Highland fashion," with the water as high as their 
breasts ; and, having crossed the heavy stream, fell upon 
the Germans in their intrenchment. These were presently 
thrown into confusion, and retreated, breaking down their 



98 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

own bridges, whilst many of them were drowned. This 
movement, having been made in the dusk of the evening, 
partook of the character of a surprise ; but it appears to 
me a very remarkable one, as having been effected under 
such circumstances, in the dead of winter, and in the face 
of an enemy who possessed the advantages both of position 
and of numerical suiDeriority. The author of the narrative 
adds : — " When the Marquis de Sell heard the firing, and 
understood that the Germans were beat out of the island, 
he made the sign of the cross on his face and breast, and 
declared publicly that it was the bravest action that ever 
he saw, and that his army had no honor by it. As soon 
as 4he boats came, the Marquis sent into the island to 
acquaint the officers that he would send them both troops 
and provisions, who thanked his Excellency, and desired 
he should be informed that they wanted no troops, and 
could not spare time to make use of provisions, and only 
desired spades, shovels, and pickaxes, wherewith they might 
intrench themselves — which were immediately sent to them. 
The next morning, the Marquis came into the island, and 
kindly embraced every officer, and thanked them for the 
good service they had done his master, assuring them he 
would write a true account of their honor and bravery to 
the Court of France, which, at the reading his letters, im- 
mediately went to St. Germains, and thanked King James 
for the services his subjects had done on the Rhine." 

The company kept possession of the island for nearly 
six weeks, notwithstanding repeated attempts on the part 
of the Germans to surprise and dislodge them ; but all 
these having been defeated by the extreme watchfulness of 
the Scots, General Stirk at length drew off his army, and 
retreated. " In consequence of this action," says the 
Chronicler, " that island is called at present Isle d"Ecosse, 
and will in likelihood bear that name until the general 
conflagration," 



THE ISLAXD OF THE SCOTS. 99 

Two years afterward, a treaty of peace was concluded ; 
and this gallant company of soldiers, worthy of a better 
fate, was broken up and dispersed. At the time when the 
narrative from which I have quoted so freely was com- 
piled, not more than sixteen of Dundee's veterans were 
alive. The author concludes thus : " And thus was dis- 
solved one of the best companies that ever marched under 
command ! Gentlemen, who, in the midst of all their 
pressures and obscurity, never forgot they were gentlemen ; 
and whom the sweets of a brave, a just, and honorable 
conscience rendered perhaps more happy under those suf- 
ferings than the most prosj^erous and triumphant in in- 
iquity, since our minds stamp our happiness.'' 

Some years ago, while visiting the ancient Scottish con- 
vent at Ratisbone, my attention was drawn to the monu- 
mental inscriptions on the walls of the dormitory, many of 
which bear reference to gentlemen of family and distinc- 
tion, whose political principles had involved them in the 
troubles of 1688, 1715, and 1745. Whether the cloister 
which now holds their dust had afforded them a shelter in 
the latter years of their misfortunes, I know not ; but, for 
one that is so commemorated, hundreds of the exiles must 
have passed away in obscurity, buried in the field on which 
they fell, or carried from the damp vaults of the military 
hospital to the trench, without any token of remembrance, 
or any other wish beyond that which the minstrels have 
ascribed to one of the greatest of our olden heroes : — ■ 

" Oh ! bury me by the bracken bush, 

Beneath the blooming brier ; 
Let never living mortal ken 

That a kindly Scot lies here I" 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 



The Rhine is running deep and red, 

The island Hes before — 
" Now is there one of all the host 

Will dare to venture o'er ? 
For not alone the river's sweep 

Might make a brave man quail ; 
The foe are on the further side, 

Their shot comes fast as hail. 
God help us, if the middle isle 

We may not hope to win ! 
Now is there any of the host 

Will dare to venture in ? " 



II. 

" The ford is deep, the banks are steep, 

The island-shore lies wide : 
Nor man nor horse could stem its force, 

Or reach the further side. 
See there amidst the willow-boughs 

The serried bayonets gleam ; 
They've flung their bridge — they've won the 
isle 

The foe have crossed the stream ! 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. loi 

Their volley flashes sharp and strong — 

By all the Saints ! I trow 
There never yet was soldier born 

Could force that passage now ! " 

III. 

So spoke the bold French Mareschal 

With him who led the van, 
Whilst rough and red before their view 

The turbid river ran. , 
Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross 

The wild and swollen Rhine, 
And thundering on the other bank 

Far stretched the German line. 
Hard by there stood a swarthy man 

Was leaning on his sword, 
And a saddened smile lit up his face 

As he heard the Captain's word. 
" I've seen a wilder stream ere now 

Than that which rushes there ; 
I've stemmed a heavier torrent yet 

And never thought to dare. 
If German steel be sharp and keen. 

Is ours not strong and true } 
There may be danger in the deed. 

But there is honor too." 

IV. 

The old Lord in his saddle turned, 
And hastily he said — 
" Haih bold Duguesclin's fiery heart 
Awakened from the dead .-' 



102 L.-4]'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAWl TIERS. 

Thou art the leader of the Scots— 

Now well and sure I know, 
That gentle blood in dangerous hour 

Ne'er yet ran cold nor slow, 
And I have seen ye in the fight 

Do all that mortal may : 
If honor is the boon ye seek, 

It may be won this day — 
The prize is in the middle isle, 

There lies the adventurous way, 
And armies twain are on the plain, 

The daring deed to see — 
Now ask thy gallant company 

If they will follow thee ! " 

V. 

Right gladsome looked the Captain then, 

And nothing did he say, 
But he turned him to his little band — 

Oh few, I ween, were they ! 
The relics of the bravest force 

That ever fought in fray. 
No one of all that company 

But bore a gentle name, 
Not one whose fathers had not stood 

In Scotland's fields of fame. 
All they had marched with great Dundee 

To where he fought and fell, 
And in the deadly battle-strife 

Had venged their leader well : 
And they had bent the knee to earth 

When every eye was dim, 
As o'er their hero's buried corpse 

They sang the funeral h)'mn ; 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 103 

And ihey had trod the Pass once more, 

And stooped on either side 
To pluck the heather from the spot 

Where he had dropped and died ; 
And they had bound it next their hearts, 

And ta'en a last farewell 
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, 

Where Scotland's glory fell. 
Then went they forth to foreign lands 

Like bent and broken men, 
Who leave their dearest hope behind. 

And may not turn again. 

VI. 

" The stream," he said, " is broad and deep. 

And stubborn is the foe — 
Yon island-strength is guarded well 

Say, brothers, will ye go.? 
From home and kin for many a year 

Our steps have wandered wide, 
And never may our bones be laid 

Our fathers' graves beside. 
No children have we o lament. 

No wives to wail our fall ; 
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand 

Have reft our hearths of all. 
But we have hearts, and we have arms, 

As strong to will and dare 
As when our ancient banners flew 

Within the northern air. 
Come, brothers ! let me name a spell 

Shall rouse your souls again, 



I04 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

And send the old blood bounding free 

Through pulse, and heart, and vein. 
Call back the days of bygone years — 

Be young and strong once more ; 
Think yonder stream, so stark and red. 

Is one we've crossed before. 
Rise, hill and glen ! rise, crag and wood ! 

Rise up on either hand — 
Again upon the Garry's banks, 

On Scottish soil we stand ! 
Again I see the tartans wave, 

Again the trumpets ring ; 
Again I hear our leader's call — 

' Upon them for the King ! ' 
Stayed we behind that glorious day 

For roaring flood or linn } 
The soul of Graeme is with us still — 

Now, brothers ! will ye in } " 

VII. 

No stay — no pause. With one accord 

They grasped each other's hand. 
Then plunged into the angry flood, 

That bold and dauntless band. 
High flew the spray above their heads, 

Yet onward still they bore. 
Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell. 

And shot, and cannon-roar — 
" Now, by the Holy Cross ! I swear, 

Since earth and sea began, 
Was never such a daring deed 

Essayed by mortal man ! " 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 105 

VIII. 

Thick blew the smoke across the stream, 

And faster flashed the flame : 
The water plashed in hissing jets. 

As ball and bullet came. 
Yet onwards pushed the Cavaliers 

All stern and undismayed. 
With thousand armed foes before, 

And none behind to aid. 
Once, as they neared the middle stream, 

So strong the torrent swept, 
That scarce that long and living wall 

Their dangerous footing kept. 
Then rose a warning cry behind, 

A joyous shout before : 
" The current's strong — the way is long — 

They'll never reach the shore! 
See, see ! they stagger in the midst. 

They waver in their line ! 
Fire on the madmen ! break their ranks, 

And whelm them in the Rhine ! " 



IX. 



Have you seen the tall trees swaying 

When the blast is sounding shrill, 
And the whirlwind reels in fury 

Down the gorges of the hill .'* 
How they toss their mighty branches 

Struggling with the tempest's shock ; 
How they keep their place of vantage, 

Cleaving firmly to the rock } 



To6 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

Even so the Scottish warriors 

Held their own against the river ; 
Though the water flashed around them, 

Not an eye was seen to quiver ; 
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, 

Not a man relaxed his hold ; 
For their hearts were big and thrilling 

With the mighty thoughts of old. 
One word was spoke among them, 

And through the ranks it spread — 
" Remember our dead Claverhouse ! " 

Was all the Captam said. 
Then, sternly bending forward. 

They wrestled on awhile, 
Until they cleared the heavy stream, 

Then rushed towards the isle. 



The German heart is stout and true. 

The German arm is strong ; 
The German foot goes seldom- back 

Where armed foemen throng. 
But never had they faced in field 

So stern a charge before, 
And never had they felt the sweep 

Of Scotland's broad claymore. 
Not fiercer pcurs the avalanche 

Adown the steep incline, 
That rises o'er the parent-springs 

Of rough and rapid Rhine — 
Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven 

Than came the Scottish band 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 107 

Right up against the guarded trench, 

And o'er it sword in hand. 
In vain their leaders forward press- 

They meet the deadly brand ! 

XI. 

O lonely island of the Rhine — 

Where seed was never sown, 
What harvest lay upon thy sands, 

By those strong reapers thrown .'' 
What saw the winter moon that night, 

As, struggling through the rain, 
She poured a wan and fitful light 

On marsh, and stream, and plain } 
A dreary spot with corpses strewn, 

And bayonets glistening round ; 
A broken bridge, a stranded boat, 

A bare and battered mound ; 
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, 

That sent its quivering glare 
To tell the leaders of the host 

The conquering. Scots were there ! 

XII. 

And did they twine the laurel-wreath 

For those who fought so well .-' 
And did they honor those who lived. 

And weep for those who fell .-• 
What meed of thanks was given to them 

Let aged annals tell. 
Why should they bring the laurel-wreath — 

Why crown the cup with wine .-• 



:o8 LAVS OF THE CSOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

It was not Frenchmen's blood that flowed 

So freely on the Rhine — 
A stranger band of beggared men 

Had done the venturous deed : 
The glory was to France alone, 

The danger was their meed. 
And what cared they for idle thanks 

From foreign prince and peer ? 
What virtue had such honeyed words 

The exiled heart to cheer ? 
What mattered it that men should vaunt 

And loud and fondly swear, 
That higher feat of chivalry 

Was never wrought elsewhere ? 
They bore within their breasts the grief 

That fame can never heal — 
The deep, unutterable woe 

Which none save exiles feel. 
Their hearts were yearning for the land 

They ne'er might see again — 
For Scotland's high and heathered hills, 

For mountain, loch, and glen — 
For those who haply lay at rest 

Beyond the distant sea, 
Beneath the green and daisied turf 

Where they would gladly be ! 

XIII. 

Long years went by. The lonely isle 

In Rhine's impetuous flood 
Has ta'en another name from those 

Who bought it with their blood : 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 

And, though the legend does not live — 

For legends lightly die — 
The peasant, as he sees the stream 

In winter rolling by. 
And foaming o'er its channel bed 

Between him and the spot 
Won by the warriors of the sword, 
Still calls that deep and dangerous ford 

The Passage of the Scot. 



109 




CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 



Though the sceptre had departed from the House of 
Stuart, it was reserved for one of its last descendants to 
prove to the world, by his personal gallantry and noble 
spirit of enterprise, that he at least had not degenerated 
from his royal line of ancestors. The daring effort of 
Charles Edward to recover the crown of these kingdoms 
for his father, is to us the most remarkable incident of the 
last century. It was honorable alike to the Prince and 
to those who espoused his cause ; and even in a political 
point of view, the outbreak ought not to be deplored, since 
its failure put an end for ever to the dynastical struggle 
which, for more than half a century, had agitated the 
whole of Britain ; since it established the rule of law and 
of social order throughout the mountainous districts of 
Scotland, and blended Celt and Saxon into one prosperous 
and united people. It was better that the antiquated sys- 
tem of clanship should have expired in a blaze of glor\', 
than gractually dwindle into contempt ; better that the pa- 
triarchal rule should at once have been extinguished by 
the dire catastrophe of Culloden, than that it should have 
lingered on, the shadow of an old tradition. There is 
nothing now to prevent us from dwelling wilh pride and 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. iii 

admiration on the matchless devotion displayed by the 
Highlanders, in 1745, in behalf of the heir of him whom 
they acknowledged as their lawful king. No "feeling can 
arise to repress the interest and the sympathy which is 
excited by the perusal of the tale narrating the sufferings 
of the princely wanderer. That unbought loyalty and 
^allegiance of the heart, which would not depart from its 
constancy until the tomb of the Vatican had closed upon 
the last of the Stuart line, has long since been transferred 
to the constitutional sovereign of these realms ; and the 
enthusiastic welcome which has so often greeted the return 
of Queen Victoria to her Highland home, owes its origin 
to a deeper feeling than that dull respect which modern 
liberalism asserts to be the only tribute clue to the first 
magistrate of the land. 

The campaign of 1845 yields in romantic Interest to 
none which is written in history. A young and inexperi- 
enced prince, whose person was utterly unknown to any of 
his adherents, landed on the west coast of Scotland, not at 
the head of a foreign force, not munimented with supplies 
and arms, but accompanied by a mere handful of followers, 
and ignorant of the language of the people amongst whom 
he was hazarding his person. His presence in Scotland had 
not been urgecl by the chiefs of the clans, most of whom 
were deeply averse to embarking in an enterprise which 
must involve them in a war with so powerful an antagonist 
as England, and which, if unsuccessful, could only termi- 
nate in the utter ruin of their fortunes. This was not a 
cause in which the whole of Scotland was concerned. 
Although it was well known that many leading families in 
the Lowlands entertained Jacobite opinions, and although 
a large proportion of the common people had not yet 
become reconciled to or satisfied of the advantages of the 
Union, by which they considered themselves dishonored 
and betrayed, it was hardly to be expected that, without 



112 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

some fair guarantee for success, the bulk of the Scottish 
nation would actively bestir themselves on the side of the 
exiled family. Besides this, even amongst the Highlanders 
there was not unanimity of opinion. The three northern 
clans of Sutherland, Mackay, and Monro, were known to 
be staunch supporters of the Government. It was doubtful 
what part might be taken in the struggle by those of 
Mackenzie and Ross. The chiefs of Skye, who could have 
brought a large force of armed men into the field, had de- 
clined participating in the attempt. The adhesion of Lord 
I.,ovat, upon which the co-operation of the Frasers might 
depend, could not be calculated on with certainty ; and 
nothing but hostility could be expected from the powerful 
sept of the Campbells. Under such circumstances, it is 
little wonder if Cameron of Locheill, the most sagacious 
of all the chieftains who favored the Stuart cause, was 
struck with consternation and alarm at the news of the 
Prince's landing, or that he attempted to persuade him 
from undertaking an adventure so seemingly hopeless. Mr. 
Robert Chambers, in his admirable history of that period, 
does not in the least exaggerate the importance of the 
interview on t!ie result of which the prosecution of the 
war depended. " On arriving at Borrodale, Locheill had 
a private interview with the Prince, in which the probabil- 
ities of the enterprise were anxiously debated. Charles 
used every argument to excite the loyalty of Locheill, and 
the chief exerted all his eloquence to persuade the Prince 
to withdraw till a better opportunity. Charles represented 
the present as the best possible opportunity, seeing that 
the French general kept the British army completely 
engaged aboard, while at home there were no troops but 
one or two newly-raised regiments. He expressed his 
confidence that a small body of Highlanders would be 
sufficient to gain a victory over all the force that could 
now be brought against him \ and he was equally sure that 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 113 

such aa advantage was all that was required to make his 
friends at home declare in his favor, and cause those 
abroad to send him assistance. All he wanted was that 
the Highlanders would begin the war. Locheill still 
resisted, entreating Charles to be more temperate, and 
consent to remain concealed where he was, till his friends 
should meet together and concert what was best to be done. 
Charles, whose mind was wound up to the utmost pitch of 
impatience, paid no regard to this proposal, but answered 
that he was determined to put all to the hazard. 'In a 
few days,' said he, ' with the few friends I have, I will 
raise the royal standard, and proclaim to the people of 
Britain that Charles Stuart is come over to claim the 
crown of his ancestors — to win it, or to perish in the 
attempt ! Locheill — who, my father has often told me, 
was our firmest friend — may stay at home, and learn from 
the newspapers the fate of his Prince J ' ' No ! ' said 
Locheill, stung by so poignant a reproach, and hurried 
away by the enthusiasm of the moment ; ' I will share the 
fate of my Prince, and so shall every man over whom 
nature or fortune has given me any power.' Such was the 
juncture upon which depended the civil war of 1745 ; for 
it is a point agreed, says Mr. Home, who narrates this 
conversation, that if Locheill had persisted in his refusal 
to take arms, no other chief would have joined the standard, 
and the spark of rebellion must have been instantly ex- 
tinguished." Not more than twelve hundred men were 
assembled in Glenfinnan on the day when the standard was 
unfurled by the Marquis of Tullibardine ; and at the head 
of this mere handful of followers, Charles Edward com- 
menced the stupendous enterprise of reconquering the 
dominions of his fathers. 

With a force which, at the battle of Preston, did not 
double the above numbers, the Prince descended upon the 
Lowlands, having baffled the attempts of General Cope to 



114 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CA V A TIERS. 

intercept his march — occupied the city of Perth, and the 
town of Dundee, and finally, after a faint show of resistance 
on the part of the burghers, took possession of the ancient 
capital of Scotland, and once more established a court in 
the halls of Holyrood. His youth, his gallantry, and the 
grace and beauty of his person, added to a most winning 
and affable address, acquired for him the sympathy of many 
who, from political motives, abstained from becoming his 
adherents. Possibly certain feelings of nationality, which 
no deliberate views of civil or religious policy could alto- 
gether extirpate, led such men to regard, with a sensation 
akin to pride, the spectacle of a prince descended from the 
long line of Scottish kings, again occupying his ancestral 
seat, and restoring to their country, which had been utterly 
neglected by the new dynasty, a portion of its former state. 
No doubt a sense of pity for the probable fate of one so 
young and chivalrous was often present to their minds, for 
they had thorough confidence in the intrepidity of the regu- 
lar troops, and in the capacity of their commander ; and 
they never for a moment supposed that these could be suc- 
cessfully encountered by a raw levy of undisciplined High- 
landers, ill armed and worse equipped and without the sup- 
port of any artillery. 

The issue of the battle of Prestonpans struck Edinburgh 
with amazement. In point of numbers the two armies 
were nearly equal, but in everything else, save personal 
valor, the royal troops had the advantage. And yet, in 
four nwiutes — for the battle is said not to have lasted long- 
er — the Highlanders having made only one terrific and 
impetuous charge — the rout of the regulars was general. 
The infantry was broken and cut to pieces ; the dragoons, 
who behaved shamefully on the occasion, turned bridle and 
fled, without having once crossed swords with the enemy. 
Mr. Chambers thus terminates his account of the action : 
"The general result of the battle of Preston may be stated 



CHARLES EDWARP AT VERSAILLES. 115 



as having been the total overthrow and almost entire de- 
struction of the royal army. Most of the infantry, falling 
upon the park walls of Preston, were there huddled together 
without the power of resistance, into a confused drove, and 
had either to surrender or be cut to pieces. Many, in vainly 
attempting to climb over the walls, fell an easy prey to the 
ruthless claymore. Nearly 400, it is said, were thus slain, 
700 taken, while only about 170 in all succeeded in effecting 
their escape. 

" The dragoons, with worse conduct, were much more 
fortunate. In falling back, they had the good luck to find 
outlets from their respective positions by the roads which 
ran along the various extremities of the park wall, and 
they thus got clear through the village with little slaughter ; 
after which, as the Highlanders had no horse to pursue 
them, they were safe. Several officers, among whom were 
Fowkes and Lascelles, escaped to Cockenzie and along 
Seton Sands, in a direction contrary to the general flight. 

" The unfortunate Cope had attempted, at the first break 
of Gardiner's dragoons, to stop and rally them, but was 
borne headlong with the confused bands, through the nar- 
row road to the south of the enclosures, notwithstanding 
all his efforts to the contrary. On getting beyond the 
village, where he was joined bv the retreating bands of the 
other regiment, he made one anxious effort, with the Earls 
of Loudon and Home, to form and bring them back to 
charge the enemy, now disordered by the pursuit ; but in 
I vain. They fled on, ducking their heads along their horses' 
; necks to escape the bullets which the pursuers occasionally 
; sent after them. By using great exertions, and holding 
i pistols to the heads of the troopers. Sir John and a few of 
I his officers induced a small number of them to halt in a 
I field near St. Clement's Wells, about two miles from the 
battle ground. But, after a momentary delay, the accident- 
al firing of a pistol renewed the panic, and they rode off 



ii6 LAVS OF THE SCOATISI/ CAVALIERS. 

once more in great disorder. Sir John Cope, with a por^ 
tion of them reached Channelkirk at an early hour in the 
forenoon, and there halted to breakfast, and to write a brief 
note to one of the state-officers, relating the fate of the day. 
He then resumed his flight, and reached Coldstream that 
night. Next morning he proceeded to Berwick, whose 
fortifications seemed competent to give the security he 
required. He everywhere brought the first tidings of his 
own defeat." 

This victory operated very much in favor of Prince 
Charles. It secured him, for a season, the undisputed 
possession of Scotland, and enabled numerous adherents 
from all parts of the country to raise such forces as they 
could command, and to repair to his banner. His popularity 
in Edinburgh daily increased, as the qualities of his per- 
son and mind became known ; and such testimony as the 
following, with respect to his estimation by the fair sex and 
the devotion they exhibited in his cause, is not over- 
charged : " His affability and great personal grace wrought 
him high favor with the ladies, who, as we learn from the 
letters of President Forbes, became generally so zealous in 
his cause as to have some serious effect in inducing their 
admirers to declare for the prince. There was, we know 
for certain, a Miss Lumsden, who plainly told her lover, a 
young artist, named Robert Strange, that he might think 
no more of her unless he should immediately join Prince 
Charles, and thus actually prevailed upon him to take up 
arms. It may be added that he survived the enterprise, 
escaped with great difficulty, and married the lady. He 
was afterwards the best line-engraver of his time, and re- 
ceived the honor of knighthood from George III. White 
ribbons and breastknots became at this time conspicuous 
articles of female attire in private assemblies. The ladies 
also showed considerable zeal in contributing plate and 
other articles for the use of the Chevalier at the palace, 



CHA RLES ED IV. I RD A T VERSA ILLES. 1 1 7 

i 
and in raising pecuniary subsidies for him. Many a posset- 

disla and snuff-box, many a treasured necklace and repeat- 
er, many a jewel which had adorned its successive genera- 
tions of family beauties, was at this time sold or laid in 
pledge, to raise a little money for the service of Prince 
Charlie. 

As to the motives and ifitended policy of this remarka- 
ble and unfortunate young man, it may be interesting to 
quote the terms of the proclamation which he issued on the 
loth October, 1745, before commencing his march into Eng- 
land. Let his history be impartially read — 'his character, 
as spoken of by those who knew him best, fairly noted — • 
and I think there cannot be a doubt that, had he succeed- 
ed in his daring attempt, he would have been true to the 
letter of his word, and fulfilled a pledge which Britain 
nevermore required than at the period when that document 
was penned. 

" Do not the pulpits and congregations of the clergy, 
as well as your weekly papers, ring with the dreadful threats 
of popery, slavery, tyranny, and arbitrary power, which are 
now ready to be imposed upon you by the formidable pow- 
ers of France and Spain ? Is not my royal father represent- 
ed as a blood-thirsty tyrant, breathing out nothing but de- 
struction to all who will not immediately embrace an 
odious religion ? Or have I myself been better used ? But i 
listen only to the naked truth. 

" I, with my own money, hired a small vessel. Ill-sup- 
plied with money, arms, or frienrls, I arrived in Scotland, 
attended by seven persons. I publish the King my father's 
declaration, and proclaim his title, with pardon in one hand, 
and in the other liberty of conscience, and the most solemn 
promises to grant whatever a free Parliament shall propose 
for the happiness of the people. I have, I confess, the 
greatest reason to adore the goodness of Almighty God, 
who has in so remarkable a manner protected me and my 



ii8 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

small army through the many dangers to which we were at 
first exposed, and who has led me in the way to victory, 
and to the capital of this ancient kingdom, amidst the accla- 
mations of the King my Father's subjects. Why, then, is 
so much pains taken to spirit up the minds of the people 
against this my undertaking ? 

" The reason is obvious ; it is, lest the real sense of the 
nation's present sufferings should blot out the remembrance 
of past misfortunes, and of the outcries formerly raised 
against the royal family. Whatever miscarriages might 
have given occasion to them, they have been more than 
atoned for since ; and the nation has now an opportunity 
of being secured against the like in future. 

" That our family has suffered exile during these fifty- 
seven years, everybody knows. Has the nation during 
that period of time, been the more happy and flourishing 
for it ? Have you found reason to love and cherish your 
governors as the fathers of the people of Great Britain and 
Ireland ? Has a family, upon whom a faction unlawfully 
bestowed the diadem of a rightful prince, retained a due 
sense of so great a trust and favor .? Have you found 
more humanity and condescension in those who were not 
born to a crown, than in my royal forefathers ? Have 
their ears been open to the cries of the people ? Have 
they or do they consider only the interests of these nations ? 
Have you reaped any other benefit from them than an im- 
mense load of debt ? If I am answered in the affirmative, 
why has their government been so often railed at in all 
your public assemblies ? Why has the nation been so long 
crying out in vain for redress against the abuse of Parlia- 
ments, upon account of their long duration, the multitude 
of placemen, which occasions their venality, the introduction 
of penal laws, and, in general, against the miserable situa- 
tion of the kingdom at home and abroad ? All these, and 
many more inconveniences, must now be removed, unless 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 119 

the people of Great Britain be already so far corrupted 
that they will not accept of freedom when offered to them, 
seeing the King, on his restoration, will refuse nothing that 
a free Parliament can ask for the security of the religion, 
laws, and liberty of his people. 

" It is now time to conclude ; and I shall do it with this 
reflection : Civil wars are ever attended with rancor and 
ill-will, which party-rage never fails to produce in the minds 
of those whom different interests, principles, or views, set 
in opposition to one another. I, therefore, earnestly require 
it of my friends to give as little loose as possible to such 
passions : this will prove the most effectual means to 
prevent the same in the enemies of my royal cause. And 
this my declaration will vindicate to all posterity the 
nobleness of my undertaking and the generosity of my 
intentions." 

There was much truth in the open charges preferred in 
this declaration against the existing Government. The 
sovereigns of the House of Hanover had always shown a 
marked predilection for their Continental possessions, and 
had proportionally neglected the affairs of Britain. Under 
Walpole's administration, the Imperial Parliament had 
degenerated from an independent assembly to a junta of 
placemen, and the most flagitious system of bribery was 
openly practised and avowed. It was not without reason 
that Charles contrasted the state of the nation then, with 
its position when under the rule of the legitimate family ; 
and had there not been a strong, I think, unreasonable 
suspicion in the minds of many, that his success would be 
the prelude to a vigorous attack upon the established 
religions of the country, and that he would be inclined to 
follow out in this respect the fatal policy of his grandfather, 
Charles would in all probability have received a more 
active and general support than was accorded to him. But 
the zeal with which the Episcopalian party in Scotland 



I20 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

espoused his cause, naturally gave rise to the idea that the 
attempt of the Prince was of evil omen to Presbytery ; and 
the settlement of the Church upon its present footing was 
yet so recent, that the sores of the old feud were still 
festering and green. The Established clergy, therefore, 
were, nearly to a man, opposed to his pretensions; and one 
minister of Edinburgh, at the time when the Highland host 
was in possession of the city, had the courage to conclude 
his prayer nearly in the following terms — " Bless the king ; 
Thou knows what king- 1 mean — may his crown long sit 
easy on his head. And as to this young man who has 
come among us to seek an earthly crown, we beseech Thee 
in mercy to take him to Thyself and give him a crown of 
glory ! " At the same time it is very curious to observe, 
that the most violent sect of Presbyterians, who might be 
considered as the representatives of the extreme Cameronian 
principle, and who had early seceded from the Church, and 
bitterly opposed the union of the kingdoms, were not 
indisposed, on certain terms, to coalesce with the Jacobites. 
It is hardly possible to understand the motives which 
actuated these men, who appear to have regarded each 
successive Government as equally obnoxious. Some writers 
go the length of averring that, in i6S8, a negotiation was 
opened by one section of the Covenanters with Lord 
Dundee, with the object of resistance to the usurpation of 
William of Orange, and that the project was frustrated 
only by the death of that heroic nobleman. Sir Walter 
Scott — a great authority — seems to have been convinced 
that such was the case ; but in the absence of direct proof, 
I can hardly credit it. It is perfectly well known that a 
conspiracy was formed by a certain section of the Cameronian 
party to assassinate Lords Dundee and Dunfermline whilst 
in attendance at the meeting of Estates ; and although the 
recognition of William as king might not have been 
palatable to others who held the same opinion, it would 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 121 

be a strange thing if they had so suddenly resolved to 
assist Dundee in his efforts for the exiled famil}-. But the 
political changes in Scotland, more especially the Union, 
seem to have inspired some of these men with a spirit of 
disaffection to the Government ; for, according to Mr. 
Chambers, the most rigid sect of Presbyterians had, since 
the Revolution, expressed a strong desire to coalesce with 
the Jacobites, with the hope, in case the house of Stuart 
were restored, to obtain what they called a covenanted 
King. Of this sect one thousand had assembled in 
Dumfriesshire at the first intelligence of the insurrection, 
bearing arms and colors, and supposed to contemplate a 
junction with the Chevalier. But these religionists were 
now almost as violently distinct from the Established 
Church of Scotland as ever they had been from those of 
England and Rome, and had long ceased to play a 
prominent part in the national disputes. The Established 
clergy, and the greater part of their congregations, were 
averse to Charles, upon considerations peifectly moderate, 
at the same time not easy to be shaken. 

On commencing his march into England, Charles found 
himself at the head of an army of between five thousand 
and six thousand men, which force was considered strong 
enouiih, with the ausrmentations it mioht receive on the 
way, to effect the occupation of London. Had the English 
Jacobites performed their part with the same zeal as the 
Scots, it is more than probable that the attempt would have 
been crowned with success. As it was, the Prince succeeded 
in reducing the strong fortified town of Carlisle, and in 
marching without opposition through the heart of England, 
as far as Dsrby, within one hundred miles of the metropolis. 
But here his better genius deserted him. Discord had 
crept into his counsels ; for some of the chiefs became 
seriously alarmed at finding that the gentry of England, 
so far from preparing to join the expedition, preferred 



122 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

remaining at home, inactive spectators of the contest. 
Except at Manchester, they had received few or no recruits. 
No tidings had reached them from Wales — a country- 
supposed to be devoted to the cause of King James, whilst 
it was well known that a large force was already in arms 
to oppose the clans. Mr. Chambers gives us the following 
details : — " At a council of war held on the morning of the 
5th December, Lord George Murray and the other members 
gave it as their unanimous opinion that the army ought to 
return to Scotland. Lord George pointed out that they 
were about to be environed by three armies, amounting 
collectively to about thirty thousand men, while their own 
forces were not above five thousand, if so man\'. Supposing 
an unsuccessful engagement with any of these armies, it 
could not be expected that one man would escape, for the 
militia would beset every road. The Prince, if not slain in the 
battle, must fall into the enemy's hands ; the whole world 
would blame them as fools for running into such a risk. 
Charles answered, that he regarded not his own danger. He 
pressed, with all the force of argument, to go forward. He 
did not doubt, he said, that the justice of his cause would 
prevail. He was hopeful that there might be a defection in 
the enemy's army, and that many would declare for him. He 
was so very bent on putting all to the risk, that the Duke of 
Perth was for it, since his Royal Highness was. At last 
he proposed going to Wales instead of returning to Car- 
lisle ; but every other officer declared his opinion for a re- 
treat. These are nearly the words of Lord George Murray. 
We are elsewhere told that the Prince condescended to use 
entreaties to induce his adherents to alter their resolution. 
' Rather than go back,' he said, ' I would wish to be twenty 
feet under ground ! ' His chagrin when he found his 
councillors obdurate, was beyond all bounds. The council 
broke up, on the understanding that the retreat was to 
commence next morning ; Lord George volunteering to 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 123 

take the place of honor in the rear, provided only that he 
should not be troubled with the baggage." 

This resolution was received by the army with marks of 
unequivocal vexation. Retreat, in their estimation, was 
little less than overthrow ; and it was most galling to find 
that, after all their labors, hazards, and toils, they were 
doomed to disappointment at the very moment when the 
prize seemed ready for their grasp. That the movement 
was an injudicious one is, I think, obvious. We are told, 
upon good authority, " that the very boldness of the 
Prince's onward movement, especially taken into connec- 
tion with the expected descent from France, had at length 
disposed the English Jacobites to come out ; and many 
were just on the point of declaring themselves, and march- 
ing to join his army, when the retreat from Derby was de- 
termined on. A Mr. Barry arrived in Derby two days after 
the Prince left it, with a message from Sir Watkin William 
Wynne and Lord Barrymore, to assure him, in the names 
of many friends of the cause, that they were ready to join 
him in what manner he pleased, either in the capital, or 
every one to rise in his own country. I have likewise been 
assured that many of the Welsh gentry had actually left 
their homes, and were on the way to join Charles, when 
intelligence of his retreat at once sent them all back peace- 
ably, convinced that it was now too late to contribute their 
assistance. These men, from the power they had over 
their tenantry, could have added materially to his military 
force. In fact, from all that appears, we must conclude 
that the insurgents had a very considerable chance of 
success from an onward movement — also, no doubt, a 
chance of destruction, and yet not worse than what ulti- 
mately befell many of them ; while a retreat broke in a mo- 
ment the spell which their gallantry had conjured up, and 
gave the enemy a great advantage over them." 

One victory more was accorded to Prince Charles before 



124 LA}'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAl'ALIERS. 

his final overthrow. After successfully conducting his 
retreat to Scotland, occupying Glasgow, and strengthening 
his army by the accession of new recruits, he gave battle 
to the royal forces under General Hawley at Falkirk, and, 
as at Preston, drove them from the field. The parties 
were on this occasion fairly matched, there being about 
eight thousand men engaged on either side. The action 
was short ; and, though not so decisive as the former 
one, gave great contidence to the insurgents. It has been 
thus picturesquely portrayed by the historian of the enter- 
prise : — " Some individuals, who beheld the battle from the 
steeple of Falkirk, used to describe its main events as oc- 
cupying a surprisingly brief space of time. They first saw 
the English army enter the misty and storm-covered muir 
at the top of the hill ; then saw the dull atmosphere thick- 
ened by a fast rolling smoke, and heard the pealing sounds 
of the discharge ; immediately after they beheld the dis- 
comfited troops burst wildly from the cloud in which they 
had been involved, and r^sh in far-spread disorder over 
the face of the hill. From the commencement to what they 
styled ' the break of the battle,' there did not intervene 
more than ten minutes — so soon may an efficient body of 
men become, by one transient emotion of cowardice, a 
feeble and contemptible rabble. 

"The rout would have been total, but for three out-flank- 
ing regiments. These not having been opposed by any of 
the clans, having a ravine in front, and deriving some sup- 
port from a small body of dragoons, stood their ground 
under the command of General Huske and Brigadier Chol- 
mondley. When the Highlanders went past in pursuit, they 
received a volley from this part of the English army, which 
brought them to a pause, and caused them to draw back 
to their former ground, their impression being that some 
ambuscade was intended. This saved the English army 
from destruction. A pause took place, during which the 



CHA RL ES ED WA RD A T I 'E RSA IL LES. 1 2 5 

bulk of the English infantiy got back to Falkirk. It was 
not until Lord George Murray brought up the second line 
of his wing and the pickets, with some others on the other 
wing, that General Huske drew off his party, which he did 
in good order." 

The seat of war was now removed to the North. The 
month of April, 1746, found Prince Charles in possession of 
Inverness with an army sorely dwindled in numbers, and 
in great want of necessaries and provisions. Many of the 
Highlanders had retired for the winter to their native 
glens, and had not yet rejoined the standard. The Duke 
of Cumberland, who now commanded the English army, 
with a reputation not diminished by the unfortunate issue 
of Fontenoy, was at the head of a large body of tried and 
disciplined troops, in the best condition, and supported by 
the powerful arm of artillery. 

He effected the passage of the Spey, a large and rapid 
river which intersects the Highlands, without encountering 
any opposition, and on the 15th of the month had arrived 
at Nairn, about nine miles' distant from the position occu- 
pied by his kinsman and opponent. His superiority in point 
of strength was so great that the boldest of the insurgent 
chiefs hesitated as to the policy of giving immediate battle ; 
and nothing but the desire of covering Inverness prevented 
the council from recommending a further retreat into the 
mountains, where they could not have been easily followed, 
and where they were certain to have met with reinforce- 
ments. As to the Prince, his confidence in the prowess of 
the Highlanders was so unbounded, that, even with such 
odds against him, he would not listen to a proposal for 
delay. 

There yet remained, says Mr. Chambers, before playing 
the great stake of a pitched battle, one chance of success, 
by the irregular mode of warfare to which the army was 
accustomed ; and Charles resolved to put it to trial. This 



126 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA V A TIERS. 

was a night attack uiDon the camp of the Duke of Cumber- 
land. He rightly argued, that if his men could aj^proach 
without being discovered, and make a simultaneous attack 
in more than one place, the royal forces, then probably 
either engaged in drinking their commander's health (the 
15th happened to be the anniversary of the Duke's birth- 
day, and was celebrated as such by his army), or sleeping 
off the effects of the debauch, must be completely surprised 
and cut to pieces, or at least effectually routed. The time 
appointed for setting out upon the march was eight in the 
evening, when daylight should have completely disappear- 
ed ; and, in the mean time, great pains were taken to con- 
ceal the secret from the army. 

This resolution was entered into at three in the after- 
noon, and orders were given to collect the men who had 
gone ofif in search of provisions. The officers dispersed 
themselves to Inverness and other places, and besought 
the stragglers to repair to the muir. But, under the influ- 
ence of hunger, they told their commanders to shoot them 
if they pleased, rather than compel them to starve any 
longer, Charles had previously declared, with his char- 
acteristic fervor, that though only a thousand of his men 
accompany him, he would lead them on to the attack ; and 
he was not now intimidated when he saw twice that num- 
ber ready to assist in the enterprise ; though some of his 
officers would willingly have made this deficiency of troops 
an excuse for abandoning what they esteemed at best a 
hazardous expedition. Having given out for watchword 
the name of his father, he embraced Lord George Murray, 
who was to command the foremost column, and putting 
himself at the head of that which followed, gave the order 
to march. 

The attempt proved peculiarly unfortunate, and from the 
fatigue which it occasioned to the Highlanders, contributed 
in a great degree towards the disaster of the following day. 



CHA RLES ED IV A RD AT VERSA ILLES. 1 2 7 

The night chanced to be uncommonly dark, and as it was 
well known that Cumberland had stationed spies on the 
principal roads, it became necessary to select a devious 
route, in order to effect a surprise. The columns, proceed- 
ing over broken and irregular ground, soon became scatter- 
ed and dislocated ; no exertions of the officers could keep 
the men together, so that Lord George Murray at two 
o'clock found that he was still distant three miles from the 
hostile camp, and that there were no hopes of commencing 
the attack before the break of day, when they would be 
open to the observation of the enemy. Under these cir- 
cumstances a retreat was comntenced ; and the scheme 
which at one time seemed to hold out every probability of 
success, was abandoned. 

"The Highlanders returned, fatigued and disconsolate, 
to their former position, about seven in the morning, when 
they immediately addressed themselves to sleep, or went 
away in search of provisions. So scarce was food at this 
critical juncture, that the Prince himself, on retiring to 
Culloden House, could obtain no better refreshment than 
a little bread and whiskey. He felt the utmost anxiety re- 
garding his men, among whom the pangs of hunger, upon 
bodies exhausted bv fatigue, must have been working effects 
most unpromising to his success ; and he gave orders, be- 
fore seeking any repose, that the whole country should now 
be mercilessly ransacked for the means of refreshments. 
His orders were not without effect. Considerable supplies 
were procured, and subjected to the cook's art at Inver- 
ness ; but the poor famished clansmen were destined never 
to taste these provisions, the hour of battle arriving before 
they were prepared. " 

About eleven in the forenoon, the troops of Cumberland 
were observed upon the eastern extremity of the wide muir 
of Culloden, and preparations were instantly made for the 
coming battle. I'he army had been strengthened that 



128 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

morning by the arrival of the Keppoch Macdonalds and a 
party of the Frazers ; but, even with these reinforcements, 
the whole available force which the Prince could muster 
was about five thousand men, to oppose at fearful odds an- 
enemy twice as numerous, and heavily supported by artil- 
lery. Fortune on this day seemi^d to have deserted the 
Prince altogether. In drawing out the line of battle, a 
most unlucky arrangement was made by O'Sullivan, who 
acted as adjutant, wliereby the Macdonald regiments were 
removed from the right wing — the place which the great 
Clan Coila has been privileged to hold in Scottish array 
ever since the auspicious battle of Banr.ockburn. To those 
who are not acquainted with the peculiar temper and spirit 
of the Highlanders, and their punctilio upon points of 
honor and precedence, the question of arrangement will 
naturally appear a matter of little importance. But it was 
not so felt by the Macdonalds, who considered their change 
of position as a positive degradation, and who further 
looked upon it as an evil omen to the success of the battle. 
The results of this mistake will be noticed immediately. 

Just before the commencement of the action, the weather, 
which had hitherto been fair and sunny, became overcast, 
and a heavy blast of rain and sleet beat directly in the 
faces of the Highlanders. The English artillery then be- 
gan to play upon them, and, being admirably served, every 
discharge told with fearful effect upon the ranks. The 
chief object of either party at the battle of Culloden seems 
to have been to force its opponent to leave his position, 
and to commence the attack. CumberlaiKl, finding that 
his artillery was doing such execution, had no occasion to 
move ; and Charles appears to have committed a great 
error in abandoning a mode of warfare which was peculiarly 
suited for his troops, and which on two previous occasions 
had proved eminently successful. Had he at once ordered 
a general charge, and attempted to silence the guns, the 



CHA RLES EI) IV A ED A T VERSA ILLES. 1 2 9 

issue of the day might have been otlierwise ; but his unfor- 
tunate star prevailed. 

" It was not," says Mr. Ciiambers, " till the cannonade 
had continued nearly half an hour, and the Highlanders 
had seen man}'- of their kindred stretched upon the heath, 
that Charles at last gave way to the necessity of ordering a 
charge. The aide-de-camp intrusted to carry his message 
to the lieutenant-general — a youth of the name of Maclach- 
lan — was killed by a cannon-ball before he reached the 
first line ; but the general sentiment of the army, as re- 
ported to Lord George Murray, supplied the want, and 
that general took it upon him to order an attack without 
Charles's permission having been communicated. 

" Lord George had scarcely determined upon ordering a 
general movement, when the Macintoshes, a brave and 
devoted clan, though not before engaged in action, unable 
any longer to brook the unavenged slaughter made by the 
cannon, broke from the centre of the line, and rushed for- 
ward through smoke and snow to mingle with the enemy. 
The Athole men, Camerons, Stuarts, Frasers, and Mac- 
leans, also went on ; Lord George Murray heading them 
with that rash bravery befitting the commander of such 
forces. Thus, in the course of one or two minutes, the 
charge was general along the whole line, except at the left 
extremity, where the Macdonalds, dissatisfied with their 
position, hesitated to engage. 

" The action and event of the onset were, throughout, 
quite as dreadful as the mental emotion which urged it. 
Notwithstanding that the three files of the front line of 
English poured forth their incessant fire of musketry — 
notwithstanding that the cannon, now loaded with grape- 
shot, swept the field as with a hail-storm — notwithstanding 
the flank fire of Wolfe's regiment — onward, onward went 
the headlong Highlanders, flinging themselves into, rather 
than rushing upon, the lines of the enemy, which, indeed, 



T30 LA YS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VALIERS. 

they did not see for smoke, till involved among the 
weapons. All that courage, all that despair could do, was 
done. It was a moment of dreadful and agonizing sus- 
pense, but only a moment — for the whirlwind does not reap 
the forest with greater rapidity than the Highlanders 
cleared the line. Nevertheless, almost every man in their 
front rank, chief and gentleman, fell before the deadly 
weapons which they had bra\ed ; and although the enemy 
gave way, it was not till every bayonet was bent and bloody 
with the strife. 

"When the first line had thus been swept aside, the 
assailants continued their impetuous advance till they came 
near the second, when, being almost annihilated by a pro- 
fuse and well-directed fire, the shattered remains of what 
had been before a numerous and confident force began to 
give way. Still a few rushed on, resolved rather to die 
than forfeit their well-acquired and dearly estimated honor. 
They rushed on ; but not a man ever came in contact with 
the enemv. The last survivor perished as he reached the 
points of the bayonets." 

Some idea of the determination displayed by the High- 
landers in this terrific charge may be gathered from the 
fact that, in one part of the field, their bodies were after- 
wards found in layers of three and four deep. The slaugh- 
ter was fearful ; for, out of the five regiments which charged 
the English, almost all the leaders and men in the front 
rank were killed. So shaken was the English line, that, 
had the Macdonald regiments, well known to yield in valor 
to none of the clans, come up, the fortune of the day might 
have been altered. But they never made an onset. 
Smarting and sullen at the affront which they conceived to 
have been put upon their name, they bore the fire of the 
English regiments without flinching, and gave way to their 
rage by hewing at the heather with their swords. In vain 
their chiefs exhorted them to go forward ; even at that ter- 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 13 [ 

rible moment the pride of clanship prevailed. " My God ! " 
cried Macdonald of Keppoch, " has it come to this, that 
the children of my tribe have forsaken me ! " and he rushed 
forward alone, sword in hand, with the devotion of an an- 
cient hero, and fell pierced with bullets. 

The Lowland and foreign troops which formed the 
second line were powerless to retrieve the disaster. All 
was over. The rout became general, and the Prince was 
forced from the field, which he would not quit until dragged 
from it by his immediate body-guard. 

Such was the last battle, the result of civil war, which 
has been fought on British soil.' Those who were defeated 
have acquired as much glory from it as the conquerors — 
and even more, for never was a conquest sullied by such 
deeds of deliberate cruelty as were perpetrated 'upon the 
survivors of (he battle of Culloden. It is not, hovvever, 
the object of the present paper to recount these, or even 
the romantic history and hair-breadth escapes of the 
Prince, whilst wandering on the mainland and through the 
Hebrides. Although a reward of thirty thousand pounds 
(an immense sum for the period) was set upon his head — 
although his secret was known to hundreds of persons in 
every walk of life, and even to the beggar and the outlaw — 
not one attempted to betray him. Not one of all his fol- 
lowers, in the midst of the misery which overtook them, 
regretted having drawn the sword in his cause, or would 
not again have gladly imperilled their lives for the sake of 
their beloved Chevalier. " He went," says Lord Mahon, 
"but not with him departed his remembrance from the 
Highlanders. For years and years did his name continue 
enshrined in their hearts and familiar to their tongues, 
their plaintive ditties resounding with his exploits and in- 
viting his return. Again, in these strains, do they declare 
themselves ready to risk life and fortune for his cause; 
and even maternal fondness — the strongest, perhaps, of all 



132 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH C. 1 1' A TIERS. 

human feelings — yields to the passionate devotion to Prince 
Charlie." 

The subsequent life of the Prince is a story of melan- 
choly interest. We find him at first received in France 
with all the honors due to one who, though unfortunate, 
had exhibited a heroism rarely equalled and never sur- 
passed ; gradually he was neglected and slighted, as one 
of a doomed and unhappy race, whom no human exertion 
could avail to elevate to their former seat of power ; and 
finally, when his presence in France became an obstacle 
to the conclusion of peace, he was violently arrested and 
conveyed out of the kingdom. There can be little doubt 
that continued misfortune and disappointment had begun 
very early to impair his noble mind. For long periods he 
was a wanderer, lost sight of by his friends, and even by 
his father and brother. There are fragments of his writing 
extant which show how poignantly he felt the cruelty of 
his fortune. '" De vivre et pas vivre estbeaucoup plus que 
de mourir ! " And again, writing to his father's secretary, 
eight years after Culloden, he says: " I am grieved that 
our master should think that my silence was either neglect 
or want of duty ; but, in reality, my situation is such that 
I have nothing to say but imprecations against the fatality 
of being born in such a detestable age." An unhappy and 
uncongenial marriage tended still more to embitter his 
existence ; and if at last he yielded to frailties which 
inevitably insure degradation, it must be remembered that 
his lot had been one to which few men have ever been 
exposed, and the magnitude of his sufferings may fairly be 
admitted as some palliation for his weakness. 

To the last his heart was with Scotland. The following 
anecdote was related by his brother, Card nal York, to 
Bishop Walker, the late Primus of the Episcopal Church 
of Scotland : " Mr. (Treathead, a personal friend of Mr. 
Fox, succeeded, when at Rome in 1782 or 1783. in obtain- 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 133 

ing an interview with Charles Edward ; and, being alone 
with him for some time, studiously led the conversation to 
his enterprise in Scotland, and to the occurrences which 
succeeded the failure of that attempt. The Prince mani- 
fested some reluctance to enter upon these topics, appear- 
ing at the same time to undergo so much mental suffering, 
that his guest regretted the freedom he had used in calling 
up the remembrance of his misfortunes. At length, how- 
ever, the Prince seemed to shake off the load which 
oppressed him ; his eye brightened, his face assumed un- 
wonted animation, and he entered upon the narrative of 
his Scottish campaigns with a distinct but somewliat vehe- 
ment energy of manner — recounted his marches, his battles, 
his victories, his retreats, and his defeats — detailed his 
hairbreadth escapes in the Western Isles, the inviolable 
and devoted attachment of his Highland friends, and at 
length proceeded to allude to the terrible penalties with 
which the chiefs among them had been visited. But here 
the tide of emotion rose too high to allow him to go on — ■ 
his voice faltered, his eyes became fixed, and he fell con- 
vulsed on the floor. The noise brought into his room his 
daughter, the Duchess of Albany, who happened to be in 
ah adjoining apartment. 'Sir,' she exclaimed, 'what is | 
this.' You have been speaking to my father about Scot- j 
land and the Highlanders ! No one dares to mention \ 
those subjects in his presence.' " I 

He died on the 30th January, 178S, in the arms of the | 
Master of Nairn. The monument erected to him, his | 
father, and brother, in St. Peter's, by desire of George IV., 
was perhaps the most graceful tribute ever paid by royalty 
to misfortune — Regio Cineri Pietas Regia. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 



ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CULLODEN. 



Take away that star aad garter — 

Hide them from my aching sight ! 
Neither king nor prince shall tempt me 

From my lonely room this night. 
Fitting for the throneless exile 

Is the atmosphere of pall, 
And the gusty winds that shiver 

'Neath the tapestry on the wall ; 
\Vhen the taper faintly dwindles 

Like the pulse within the vein, 
That to gay and merry measure 

Ne'er may hope to bound again. 
Let the shadows gather round me 

While I sit in silence here, 
Broken-hearted, as an orphan 

Watching by his father's bier. 
Let me hold my still communion 

Far from every earthly sound — 
Day of penance — day of passion — 

Ever as the vear comes round : 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 135 

Fatal day ! whereon the latest 

Die was cast for me and mine — 
Cruel day, that quelled the fortunes 

Of the hapless Stuart line ! 
Phantom-like, as in a mirror, 

Rise the griesly scenes of Death — 
There before me in its wildness, 

Stretches bare Culloden's heath : 
There the broken clans are scattered, 

Gaunt as wolves and famine-eyed, 
Hunger gnawing at their vitals, 

Hope abandoned, all but pride — 
Pride — and that supreme devotion 

Which the Southron never knew, 
And the hatred, dee])ly rankling, 

'Gainst the Hanoverian crew. 
Oh, my God ! are these the remnants, 

These the wrecks of the array, 
That around the royal standard 

Gathered on the glorious day, 
When in deep Glenfinnan's va'il^y, 

Thousands on their bended knees 
Saw once more that stately ensign 

Waving in the northern breeze ! 
When the noble Tullibardine 

Stood beneath its weltering fold, 
With the Ruddy Lion ramping 

In its field of tressured gold ! 
When the mighty heart of Scotland, 

All too big to slumber more, 
Burst in wrath and exultation 

Like a husre volcano's roar ! 



f 136 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

There they stand, the battered columns. 

Underneath the murky sky, 
In the hush of desperation, 

Not to conquer, but to die. 
Hark ! the bagpipe's fitful wailing : 

Not the pibroch loud and shrill, 
That, with hope of bloody banquet, 

Lured the ravens from the hill — 
But a dirge both low and solemn, 

Fit for ears of dying men, 
Marshalled for their latest battle, 

Never more to fight again. 
Madness — madness! Why this shrinking ? 

Were we less inured to war 
When our reapers swept the harvest 

From the field of red Dunbar ? 
Bring my horse, and blow the trumpet, 

Call the riders of Fitz-James : 
Let Lord Lewis head the column 

Valiant chiefs of mighty names — 
Trusty Keppoch ! stout- Glengarry ! 

Gallant Gordon ! wise Locheill ! 
Bid the clansmen hold together, 

Fast and fell, and firm as steel. 
Elcho ! never look so gloomy — 

What avails a saddened brow .-• 
Heart, man ! heart ! We need it sorely, 

Never half so much as now. 
Had we but a thousand troopers, 

Had we but a thousand more ! 
Noble Perth, I hear them coming 

Hark ! the English cannon's roar. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 137 

God ! how awful sounds that volley, 

Bellowing through the mist and rain ! 
Was not that the Highland slogan ? 

Let me hear that shout again ! 
Oh, for prophet eyes to witness 

How the desperate battle goes ! 
Cumberland ! I would not fear thee 

Could my Camerons see their foes. 
Sound, I say, the charge at venture — 

'Tis not naked steel we fear : 
Better perish in the melee 

Than be shot like driven deer! 
Hold ! the mist begins to scatter ! 

There in front "tis rent asunder, 
And the cloudy bastion trembles 

Underneath the deafening thunder. 
There I see the scarlet gleaming! 

Now, Macdonald, — now or never! — 
Woe is me, the clans are broken ! 

Father, thou art lost for ever ! 
Chief and vassal, lord and yeoman. 

There they lie in heaps together, 
Smitten by the deadly volley. 

Rolled in blood upon the heather ; 
And the Hanoverian horsemen, 

Fiercely riding to and fro. 
Deal their murderous strokes at random. 

Ah, my God ! where am I now ? 
Will that baleful vision never 

Vanish from my aching sight ? 
Must those scenes and sounds of terror 

Haunt me still by day and night ? 



138 . LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Yea! the earth hath no obHvion 

For the noblest chance it gave, 
None, save in its latest refuge — 

Seek it only in the grave ! 
Love may die, and hatred slumber, 

And their memory will decay, 
As the watered garden recks not 

Of the drought of yesterday ; 
But the dream of power once broken, 

What shall give repose again ? 
What shall charm the serpent-furies 

Coiled around the maddening brain ? 
What kind draught can nature offer 

Strong enough to lull their sting ? 
Better to be born a peasant 

Than to live an exiled king ! 
Oh, these years of bitter anguish ! — 

What is life to such as me, 
With my very heart as palsied 

As a wasted cripple's knee ! 
Suppliant-like for alms depending 

On a false and foreign court ; • 
Jostled by the flouting nobles. 

Half their pity, half their sport, 
Forced to hold a place in pageant 

Like a royal prize of war, 
Walking with dejected features 

Close behind his victor's car ; 
Styled an equal — deemed a servant — 

Fed with hopes of future gain : 
Worse by far is fancied freedom 

Than the captive's clanking chain ! 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. i39 

Could I change this gilded bondage 

Even for the dusky tower, 
Whence King James beheld his lady 

Sitting in the castle bower ; 
Birds around her sweetly singing, 
Fluttering on the kindled spray, 
And the comely garden glowing 

In the light of rosy May. 
Love descended to the window — 
Love removed the bolt and bar- 
Love was warder to the lovers 
From the dawn to even-star. 
Wherefore, Love ! didst thou betray me } 

Where is now the tender glance — 
Where the meaning poks once lavished 

By the dark-eyed Maid of France t 
Where the word^ of hope she whispered, 

When around my neck she threw 
That same scarf of broidered tissue. 

Bade me wear it and be true — 
Bade me send it as a token 

When my banner waved once more 
On the castled Keep of London, 

Where my father's waved before 1 
And I went and did not conquer — ■ 

But I brought it back again — 
Brought it back from storm and battle — 

Brought it back without a stain ; 
And once more I knelt before her. 

And I laid it at her feet, 
Saying, " Wilt thou own it. Princess ] 
There at least is no defeat ! " 



I40 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Scornfully she looked upon me 

With a measured eye and cold — 
Scornfully she viewed the token, 

Though her fingers wrought the gold ; 
And she answered, faintly flushing, 

" Hast thou kept it, then, so long ? 
Worthy matter for a minstrel 

To be told in knightly song ! 
Worthy of a bold Provencal, 

Pacing o'er the peaceful plain, 
Singing of his lady's favor, 

Boasting of her silken chain — 
Yet scarce worthy of a warrior 

Sent to wrestle for a crown ! 
Is this all that thou hast brought me 

From thy fields of high renown ? 
Is this all the trophy carried 

From the lands where thou hast been ? 
It was broidered by a Princess — 

Canst thou give it to a Queen ? " 
Woman's love is writ in water ! 

Woman's faith is traced on sand ! — 
Backwards — backwards let me wander 

To the noble northern land : 
Let me feel the breezes blowing 

Fresh along the mountain-side ! 
Let me see the purple heather, 

Let me hear the thundering tide, 
Be it hoarse as Corrievreckan 

Spouting when the storm is high- 
Give me but one hour of Scotland — 

Let me see it ere I die ! 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. \\x 

Oh ! my heart is sick and heavy — 

Southern gales are not for me ; 
Though the glens are white with winter, 

Place me there and set me free. 
Give me back my trusty comrades — 

Give me back my Highland maid — 
Nowhere beats the heart so kindly 

As beneath the tartan plaid ! 
Flora ! when thou wert beside me, 

In the wilds of far Kintail — 
When the cavern gave us shelter 

From the blinding sleet and hail — 
When we lurked within the thicket, 

And, beneath the waning moon, 
Saw the sentry's bayonet glimmer, 

Heard him chant his listless tune — 
When the howling storm overtook us. 

Drifting down the island's lee, 
And our crazy bark was whirling 

Like a nutshell on the sea — 
When the nights were dark and dreary, 

And amidst the fern we lay, 
Faint and foodless, sore with travel, 

Waiting for the streaks of day; 
When thou wert an angel to me. 

Watching my exhausted sleep — 
Never didst thou hear me murmur — 

Could st thou see how now I weep ! 
Bitter tears and sobs of anguish. 

Unavailing though they be. 
Oh ! the brave — the brave and noble — 

That have died in vain for me ! 



142 L.n'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 



NOTES TO "CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 



" Could I change this gilded bondage 

Even for the dusky tozver. 
Whence King James beheld his lady 

Sitting in the casile bower." — P. 287. 

James I. of Scotland, one of the most accomplished 
kings that ever sat upon a throne, is the person here indi- 
cated. His history is a very strange and romantic one. 
He was son of Robert IH., and immediate younger brother 
of that unhappy Duke of Rothesay who was murdered at 
Falkland. His father, apprehensive of the designs and 
treachery of Albany, had determined to remove him, when 
a mere boy, for a season from Scotland ; and as France 
was then considered the best school for the education of 
one so important from his high position, it was resolved to 
I send him thither, under the care of the Earl of Orkney, 
\ and Fleming of Cumbernauld. He accordingly embarked 
I at North Berwick, with Irttle escort — as there was a truce 
' for the time between England and Scotland, and they were 
•^ under no apprehension of meeting with any vessels, save 
:' those of the former nation. Notwithstanding this, the ship 
I which carried the Prince was captured by an armed mer- 
\ chantman, and carried to London, where Henry IV., the 
\ usurping Bolingbroke, utterly regardless of treaties, com- 
mitted him and his attendants to the Tower. 

" Fii vain," says Mr. Tytler, " did the guardians of the 
voung Prince remonstrate against this cruelty, or present 
to Henry a letter from the King his father, which, with 
much simplicity, recommended him to the kindness of the 
Endish monarch, should he fnid it necessarv to land in his 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 143 

dominions. In vain did they represent that the mission to 
F"rance was perfectly pacific, and its only object the educa- 
tion of the Prince at the French Court. Henry merely 
answered by a poor witticism, declaring that he himself 
knew the French language indifferently well, and that his 
father could not have sent him to a better master. So 
flagrant a breach of the law of nations as the seizure and 
imprisonment of the heir-apparent, during the time of 
truce, would have called for the most violent remonstrances 
from any government except that of Albany. But to this 
usurper of the supreme power, the capture of the Prince 
Avas the most grateful event which could have happened \ 
and to detain him in captivity became, from this moment, 
one of the principal objects of his future life; we are not 
to wonder, then, that the conduct of Henry not only drew 
forth no indignation from the governor, but was not even 
followed by any request that the Prince should be set at 
liberty. 

"The aged King, already worn out by infirmity, and 
now broken by disappointment and sorrow, did not long 
survive the captivity of his son. It is said the melancholy 
news was brought him as he was sitting down to supper 
in his palace of Rothesay in Bute, and that the effect was 
such upon his affectionate but feeble spirit, that he drooped 
from that di^.y forward, refused all sustenance, and died 
soon after of a broken heart." 

James was finally incarcerated in Windsor Castle, where 
he endured an imprisonment of nineteen years. Henry, 
though he has not hesitated to commit a heinous breach of 
faith, was not so cruel as to neglect the education of his 
captive. The young King was supplied with the best mas- 
ters, and gradually became an adept in all the accomplish- 
ments of the age. He is a singular exception from the 
rule which maintains that monarchs are indifferent authors. 
As a poet, he is entitled to a very high rank indeed — being, 



144 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

I think, in point of sweetness and melody of verse, not 
much inferior to Chaucer. From the window of his cham- 
ber in the Tower he had often seen a young lady, of great 
beauty and grace, walking in the garden ; and the admira- 
tion which at once possessed him soon ripened into love. 
This was Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of 
Somerset, a niece of Henry TV., and who afterwards be- 
came his queen. How he loved and how he wooed her is 
told in his own beautiful poem of the King's Quhair," of 
which the following are a few stanzas : — 

" Now there was made, fast by the towris wall, 
A garden fair ; and in the corners set 
An arbour green, with wandis long and small 
Railed about, and so with trees set 
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet, 
That lyf was none walking there forbye, 
That might within scarce any wight espy. 

" So thick the boughis and the leavis greene 
Beshaded all the alleys that there were, 
And mids of every arbour might be seen 
The sharpe, greene, sweete juniper. 
Growing so fair, with branches here and there. 
That, as it seemed to a lyf without. 
The boughis spread the arbour all about. 

" And on the smalle greene twistis sat 

The little sweete nightingale, and sung 

So loud and clear the hymnis consecrat 

Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, 

That all the gardens and the wallis rung 

Right of their song. 
" And therewith cast I down mine eyes again, 

"Whereat I saw, walking under the tower, 

Full secretly, now comen here to plain. 

The fairest or the freshest younge flower 

That e'er I saw, methought, before that hour ; 

For which sudden abate, anon astart 

The blood of all my body to my heart. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 145 

And though I stood abasit for a lite, 

No wonder was ; for why ? my wittis all 

"Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight — 

Only through letting of my eyen fall — 

That suddenly my heart became her thrall 

For ever of free will, for of menace 

There was no token in her sweete face." 



" IVJiercfore, Loz'c ! didst thoii betray me ? 

Wiiere is now the tender glance — 
■ Wliere the meaning looks ojtce lavished 

By the dark-eyed Maid of France ? " — P. 207. 

There appears to be no doubt that Prince Charles was 
deeply attached to one of the princesses of the royal fam- 
ily of France. In the interesting collection called " Jacob- 
ite Memoirs," compiled by Mr. Chambers from the volum- 
inous MSS. of Bishop Forbes, we find the following passage 
from the narrative of Donald Macleod, who acted as a guide 
to the wanderer whilst traversing the Hebrides :— "When 
Donald was asked, if ever the Prince used to give any 
particular toast, when they were taking a cup of cold water, 
or the like ; he said that the Prince v^ery often drank to 
the Black Eye — by which, said Donald, he meant the sec- 
ond daughter of France, and I never heard him name any 
particular health but that alone. When he spoke of that 
lady — which he did frequently — he appeared to be more 
than ordinarily well pleased." 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 



The " gentle Locheill " may be considered as the pattern 
of a Highland Chief. Others who joined the insurrection 
may have been actuated by motives of personal ambition, 
and by a desire for a '■grandizement ; but no such chnrge 
can be made against the generous and devoted Cameron. 
He was, as we have already seen, the first who attempted 
to dissuade the Prince from embarking in an enterprise 
which lie conscientiously believed to be desperate ; but, 
having failed in doing so, he nobly stood firm to the cause 
which his conscience vindicated as just, and cheerfully im- 
perilled his life, and sacrificed his fortune, for the sake of 
his master. There was no one, even among those who 
espoused the other side, in Scotland, wh-) did not commise- 
rate the misfortunes of this truly excellent man, whose hu- 
manitv was not less conspicuous than his valor through- 
out the civil war, and who died in exile of a broken heart. 

Perhaps the best type of the Lowland Cavalier of that 
period may be found in the person of Alexander Forbes, 
Lord Pitsligo, a nobleman whose conscientious views im- 
pelled him to take a different side from that adopted by 
the greater part of his house and name. Lord Forbes, the 
head of this very ancient and honorable family, was one 
of the first Scottish noblemen who declared for King VVil- 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. MT 

Ham. Lord Pitsligo, on the contrary, who had been edu- 
cated abroad, and earh' introduced to the circle at St. 
Germains, conceived a deep personal attachment to the 
members of the exile line. He was any thing but an en- 
thusiast, as his philosophical and religious writings, well 
worthy of a perusal, will show. He was the intimate friend 
of Fenelon, and throughout his whole life was remarkable 
rather for his piety and virtue than for keenness in politi- 
cal dispute. 

After his return from France, Lord Pitsligo took his seat 
in the Scottish Parliament, and his parliamentary career 
has thus been characterized by a former writer.* " Here 
it is no discredit either to his head or heart to say, that, 
obliged to become a member of one of the contending fac- 
tions of the time, he adopted that which had for its object 
the independence of Scotland, and restoration of the an- 
cient race of monarchs. The advantages which were in 
future to arise from the great measure of a national union 
were so hidden by the mists of prejudice, that it cannot be 
wondered at if Lord Pitsligo, like many a high-spirited man, 
saw nothing but disgrace in a measure forced on by such 
corrupt means, and calling in its commencement for such 
mortifying national sacrifices. The English nation, indeed, 
with a narrow, yet not unnatural view of their own interest, 
took such pains to encumber and restrict the Scottish 
commercial privileges, that it was not till the best part of 
a century after the event that the inestimable fruits of the 
treaty began to be felt and known. This distant period 
Lord Pitsligo could not foresee. He beheld his country- 
men, like the Israelites of yore, led into the desert ; but 
his merely human eye could not foresee that, after the ex- 
tinction of a whole race — after a longer pilgrimage than 
that of the followers of Moses— the Scottish people should 

* See Black-wood's Magazine for May 1829— Article, " Lord Pitsligo." 



148 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA V A TIERS. 

at length arrive at that promised land, of which the favor- 
ers of the Union held forth so gay a prospect. 

" Looking upon the Act of Settlement of the Crown, and 
the Act of Abjuration, as unlawful, Lord Pitsligo retired to 
his house in the country, and threw up attendance on Par- 
liament. Upon the death of Queen Anne, he joined him- 
self in arms with a general insurrection of the Highlanders 
and Jacobites, headed by his friend and relative the Earl of 
Mar. 

" Mar, a versatile statesman and an able intriguer, had 
consulted his ambition rather than his talents when he as- 
sumed the command of such an enterprise. He sank be- 
neath the far superior genius of the Duke of Argyle ; and, 
after the undecisive battle of Sheriffmuir, the confederacy 
which he had formed, but was unable to direct, dissolved 
like a snowball, and the nobles concerned in it were fain 
to uy abroad. This exile was Lord Pitsligo's fate for five 
or six years. Part of the time he spent at the court, if it 
can be called so, of the old Chevalier de Saint George, 
where existed all the petty feuds, chicanery, and crooked 
intrigues which subsist in a real scene of the same char- 
acter, although the objects of the ambition which prompts 
such acts had no existence. Men seemed to play at 
being courtiers in 'that illusory court, as children play at 
being soldiers." 

It would appear that Lord Pitsligo was not attainted for 
his share in Mar's rebellion. He returned to Scotland in 
1720, and resided at his castle in Aberdeenshire, not ming- 
ling in public affairs, but gaining through his charity, kind- 
ness, and benevolence, the respect and affection of all 
around him. He was sixty-seven years of age when 
Charles Edward landed in Scotland. The district in which 
the estates of Lord Pitsligo lay was essentially Jacobite, 
and the young cavaliers only waited for a litting leader to 
take up arms in the cause. According to Mr. Home, his 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 



149 



example was decisive of the movement of his neighbors : 
" So when he who was so wise and prudent declared his 
purpose of joining Charles, most of the gentlemen in that 
part of the country who favored the Pretender's cause, put 
themselves under his command, thinking they could not 
follow a better or safer guide than Lord Pitsligo." His 
lordship's own account of the mo-tives which urged him 
on is peculiar : — " I was grown a little old, and the fear of 
ridicule stuck to me pretty much. I have mentioned the 
weightier considerations of a family, which would make the 
censure still the greater, and set the more tongues a-going. 
But we are pushed on, I know not how : I thought — I 
weighed and I weighed, again. If there was any enthusiasm 
in it, it was of the coldest kind ; and there was as little re- 
morse when the affair miscarried, as there was eagerness at 
the beginning." 

The writer whom I have already quoted goes on to say : 
— " To those friends who recalled his misfortunes of 17 15, 
he replied gayly : " Did you ever know me absent at the 
second day of a wedding ? " meaning, I suppose, that hav- 
ing once contracted an engagement, he did not feel entitled 
to quit it while the contest subsisted. Being invited by 
the gentlemen of the district to put himself at their head, 
and having surmounted his own desires, he had made a 
farewell visit at a neighbor's house, where a little boy, a 
child of the family, brought out a stool to assist the old 
nobleman in remounting his horse. " My little fellow," 
said Lord Pitsligo, " this is the severest rebuke I have yet 
received, for presuming to go on such an expedition." 

"The die was however cast, and Lord Pitsligo went to 
meet his friends at the rendezvous they had appointed in 
Aberdeen. They formed a body of well armed cavalry, 
gentlemen and their servants, to the number of a hundred 
men. When they were drawn up in readiness to commence 
the expedition, the venerable nobleman their leader moved 



4 



150 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

to their front, lifted his hat, and, lool'cing up to heaven, pro- 
nounced, with a solemn voice, the awful appeal, — ' O Lord, 
Thou knowest that our cause is just!' then added the 
signal for departure — ' March, gentlemen ! ' 

" Lord Pitsligo, with his followers, found Charles at 
Edinl urgh, on 8th October 1745, a few days after the High- 
landers' victory at Preston. Their arrival was hailed with 
enthusiasm, not only on account of the timely reinforce- 
ments, but more especially from the high character of their 
leader. Hamilton of Bangour, in an animated and eloquent 
eulogium upon Pitsligo, states that nothing could have fall- 
en out more fortunately for the Prince than his joining 
them did — for it seemed as if religion, virtue, and justice 
were entering his camp, under the appearance of this ven- 
erable old man ; and what would have given sanction to a 
cause of the most dubious right, could not fail to render 
sacred the very best." 

Although so far advanced in years, he remained in arms 
during the whole campaign, and was treated with almost 
filial tenderness by the Prince. After Culloden, he became, 
like many others, a fugitive and an outlaw; but he suc- 
ceeded, like the Baron of Bradwardine, in finding a shelter 
upon the skirts of his own estate. Disguised as a mendi- 
cant, his secret was faithfully kept by the tenantry; and 
although it was more than surmised by the soldiers that 
he was lurking somewhere in the neighborhood, they 
never were able to detect him. On one occasion he actually 
guided a party to a cave on the sea-shore, amidst the rough 
rocks of Buchan, where it was rumored that he was lying 
in concealment; and on another, when overtaken by his 
asthma, and utterly unable to escape from an approaching 
patrol of soldiers, he sat down by the wayside, and acted 
his assumed character so well, that a good-natured fellow 
not only gave him alms, but condoled with him on the 
violence of his complaint. 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALJER. 151 

For ten years he remained concealed, but in the mean 
time both title and estate were forfeited by attainder. His 
last escape was so very remarkable, that I may be pardoned 
for giving it in the language of the author of his Memoirs : 

" In March, 1756, and of course long after all apprehen- 
sion of a search had ceased, information having been given 
to the commanding officer at Fraserburgh that Lord Pit- 
sligo was at that moment at the house of Auchiries, it was 
acted upon wiih so much promptness and secrecy that the 
search must have proved successful but for a very singular 
occurrence. Mrs. Sophia Donaldson, a lady who lived 
much with the family, repeatedly dreamt, on that particular 
night, that the house was surrounded by soldiers. Her 
mind became so haunted with the idea, that she got out of 
bed, and was walking through the room in hopes of giving 
a different current to her thoughts before she lay down 
again ; when, day beginning to dawn, she accidentally 
looked out at the window as she passed it in traversing 
the room, and was astonished at actually observing the 
figures of soldiers among some trees near the house. So 
completely had all idea of a search been by that time laid 
asleep, that she supposed they had come to steal poultry — 
Jacobite poultry-yards affording a safe object of pillage for 
the English soldiers in those days. Mrs. Sophia was 
proceeding to rouse the servants, when her sister having 
awaked, and inquiring what was the matter, and being told 
of soldiers near the house, exclaimed in great alarm that 
she feared they wanted something more than hens. She 
begged Mrs. Sophia to look out at a window at the other 
side of the house, when not only were soldiers seen in that 
direction, but also an officer giving instructions by signal, 
and frequently putting his fingers to his lips, as if enjoining 
silence. There was now no time to be lost in rousing the 
family, and all the haste that could be made was scarcely 



152 LA VS OF THE SCOTTISH CA VA TIERS. 

sufBcient to hurry the venerable man from his bed into a 
small recess, behind the wainscot of an adjoinnig room, 
which was concealed by a bed, in which a lady, Miss 
Gordon, of Towie, who was there on a visit, 1 ly, before the 
soldiers obtained admission. A most minute search took 
place. The room in which Lord Pitsligo was concealed 
did not escape. Miss Gordon's bed was carefully exam- 
ined, and she was obliged to suffer the rude scrutiny of one 
of the party, by feeling her chin, to ascertain that it was 
not a man in a lady's night-dress. Before the soldiers had 
finished their examination in this room, the confinement 
and anxiety increased Lord Pitsligo's asthma so much, and 
his breathing became so loud, that it cost Miss Gordon, 
lying in bed, much and violent coughing, which she coun- 
terfeited in order to prevent the high breathings behind 
the wainscot from being heard. It may easily be con- 
ceived what agony she would suffer, lest, by overdoing her 
part, she should mcrease suspicion, and, in fact, lead to a 
discovery. The ruse was fortunately successful. On the 
search through the house being given over, Lord Pitsligo 
was hastily taken from his confined situation, and again 
placed in bed ; and as soon as he was able to speak, his 
accustomed kindness of heart n ade him say to his servant: 
'Jar.":es, go and see that these poor fellows get some break- 
fast, and a drink of warm ale, for this is a cold morning ; 
they are only doing their duty, and cannot bear me any 
ill-will.' When the family were felicitating each other q-a 
his escape, he pleasantly observed : ' A poor prize, had 
they obtained it — an old dying man.'" 

This was the last attempt made on the part of the Gov- 
ernment to seize on the persons of any of the surviving 
insurgents. Three years before. Dr. Archibald Cameron, 
a brother of Locheill, having clandestinely revisited Scot- 
land, was arrested, tried and executed for high treason at 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 153 

Tyburn. The Government was generally blamed for this 
act of severity, which was considered rather to have been 
dictated by revenge than required for the public safety. 
It is, however, probable that they might have had secret 
information of certain negotiations which were still con- 
ducted in the Highlands by the agents of the Stuart 
family, and that they considered it necessary, by one terri- 
ble example, to overawe the insurrectionary spirit. This 
I believe to have been the real motive of an execution 
which otherwise could not have been palliated ; and in the 
case of Lord Pitsligo, it is quite possible that the zeal of a 
partisan may have led him to take a step which would not 
have been approved of by the Ministry. After the lapse 
of so many years, and after so many scenes of judicial 
bloodshed, the nation would have turned in disgust from 
the spectacle of an old man, whose private life was not 
only blameless but exemplary, dragged to the scaffold, and 
forced to lay down his head in expiation of a doubtful 
crime ; and this view derives corroboration from the fact 
that, shortly afterwards, Lord Pitsligo was tacitly permitted 
to return to the society of his friends, without further no- 
tice or persecution. 

Dr. King, the Principal of St. Mary's Kail, Oxford, 
has borne the following testimony to the character of Lord 
Pitsligo : " Whoever is so happy, either from his natural 
disposition or his good judgment, constantly to observe St. 
Paul's precept, ' to speak evil of no one,' will certainly ac- 
quire the love and esteem of the whole community of which 
he is a member. But such a man is the i-ani avis in fern's : 
and, among all my acquaintance, I have known only ono 
person to Avhom I can with truth assign this character. 
The person I mean is the present Lord Pitsligo, of Scot- 
land. I not only never heard this genilemen speak an ill 
word of any man living, but I always observed him ready 



154 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

tD defend any other person who was ill spoken of in his 
company. If the person accused were of his acquaintance, 
my Lord Pitslip;o would always find something good to say 
of him as a counterpoise. If he were a stranger, and quite 
unknown to him, my lord would urge in his defence the 
general corruption of manners, and the frailties and infirm- 
ities of human nature. 

" It is no wonder that such an excellent man, who, be- 
sides, is a polite scholar, and has many other great and 

I good qualities, should be universally admired and beloved 

I — insomuch that I persuade myself he has not one enemy 
in the world. At least, to this general esteem and affec- 
tion for his person, his preservation must be owing ; for 
since his attainder he has never removed far from his own 
house, protected by men of different principles, and un- 

\ sought for and unmolested by Government." To which 
eulogy it might be added, by those who have the good 
fortune to know his representatives, that the virtues here 
acknowledged seem hereditary in the family of Pitsligo. 

The venerable old nobleman was permitted to remain 
without molestation, at the residence of his son, during the 
latter years of an existence protracted to the extreme verge 
of human life. And so, says the author of his Memoirs, 

j " In this happy frame of mind — calm and full of hope — 
the saintly man continued to the last, with his reason un- 
clouded, able to study his favorite volume, enjoying the 
comforts of friendship, and delighting in the consolations 
of religion, till he gently 'fell asleep in Jesus.' He died 
on the 2ist of D.-cember, 1762, in the eighty-fifth year of 
his age ; and to his surviving friends the recollection of 
the misfortunes which had accompanied him through his 
long life, was painfully awakened even in the closing scene 
of his mortal career — as his son had the mortification to 
be indebted to a stranger, now the proprietor of his ancient 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 155 

inheritance by purchase from the Crown, for permission to 
lay his father's honored remains in the vault wliich con- 
tained the ashes of his family for many generations." 

Such a character as this is well worthy of remembrance ; 
and Lord Pitsligo has just title to be called the last of the 
old Scottish cavaliers. I trust that, in adapting the words 
of the following little ballad to a well-known Englisli air, 
I have committed no unpardonable larceny. 




THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 



I. 

Come listen to another song, 

Should make your heart beat high. 
Bring crimson to your forehead, 

And the lustre to your eye ; — ■ 
It is a song of olden time, 

Of days long since gone by. 
And of a baron stout and bold 

As e'er wore sword on thigh ! 

Like a brave old Scottish cavalier, 
All of the olden time ! 

II. 

He kept his castle in the north. 

Hard by the thundering Spey ; 
And a thousand vassals dwelt around 

All of his kindred they. 
And not a man of all that clan 

Had ever ceased to pray 
For the Royal race they loved so well, 

Though exiled far away, 

From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers, 
All of the olden time ' 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. iS7 S 

III. 

His father drew the righteous sword 

For Scotland and her claims, 
Among the loyal gentlemen 

And chiefs of ancient names, 
Who swore to fight or fall beneath 

The standard of King James, 
And died at Killiecrankie Pass, 

With the glory of the Grasmes ; 
Like a true old Scottish cavalier 
All of the olden time ! 

IV. 

He never owned the foreign rule, 

No master he obeyed, 
But kept his clan in peace at home, 

From foray and from raid ; 
And when they asked him for his oath. 

He touched his glittering blade, 
And pointed to his bonnet blue, 

That bore the white cockade : 
Like a leal old Scottish cavalier, 
All of the olden time ! 



At length the news ran through the land — 

The prince had come again ! 
That night the fiery cross was sped 

O'er mountain and through glen ; 
And our old baron rose in might, 

Like a lion from his den. 



158 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

And rode away across the hills 
To Charlie and his men, 

With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, 
All of the olden time ! 

VI. 

He was the first that bent the knee 

When the Standard waved abroad, 
He was the first that charged the foe 

On Preston's bloody sod ; 
And ever, in the van of fight, 

The foremost still he trod, 
Until on bleak Culloden's heath, 

He gave his soul to God, 

Like a good old Scottish cavalier, 
All ot the olden time ! 

vii. 

Oh ! never shall we know again 

A heart so stout and true — 
The olden times have passed away, 

And weary are the new : 
The fair white rose has faded 

From the garden where it grew. 
And no fond tears save those of heaven, 

The glorious bed bedew 

Of the last old Scottish cavalier, 
All of the olden time ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



BLIND OLD MILTON. 



Place me one more, my daughter, where the sun 

May shine upon my old and time-worn head, 

For the last time, percliance. My race is run ; 

And soon amidst the ever-silent dead 

I must repose, it may be, half forgot. 

Yes ! I have broke the hard and bitter bread 

For many a year, with those who trembled not 

To buckle on their armor for the fight, 

And set themselves against the tyrant's lot ; 

And I have never bowed me to his might, 

Nor knelt before him — for I bear within 

My heart the sternest consciousness of right, 

And that perpetual hate of gilded sin 

Which made me what I am ; and though the stain 

Of poverty be on mc, yet I win 

More honor by it than the blinded train 

Who hug their willing servitude, and bow 

Unto the weakest and the most profane. 

Therefore, with unencumbered soul I e:o 



i6o MrsCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Before the footstool of my Maker, where 
; I hope to stand as iindebased as now ! 

Child ! is the sun abroad ? I feel my hair 
, Borne up and wafted by the gentle wind, 
\ I feel the odors that perfume the air, 
, And hear the rustling of the leaves behind. 
, Within my heart I picture them, and then 
': I almost can forget that I am blind. 

And old, and hated by my feilow-mcn. 
i Yet would I fain once more behold the grace 
■ Of nature ere I die, and gaze again 
. Upon her living and rejoicing face — 

iF'ain would I see tiiy countenance, my child, 
My comforter ! I feel thy dear embrace — 
' I hear thy voice, so musical and mild, 
I The patient sole interpreter, by whom 
> So many years of sadness are beguiled ; 
; For it hath made my small and scanty room 
( Peopled with glowing visions of the past. 

But I will calmly bend me to my doom, 
, And wait the hour which is approaching fast, 
\ When triple light shall stream upon mine eyes, 
\ And heaven itself be opened up at last 
I To him who dared foretell its mysteries. 
j I have had visions in this drear eclipse 
; Of outward consciousness, and clomb the skies, 
Striving to utter with my eai'thly lips 
What the diviner soul had half divined, 
\ Even as the Saint in his Apocalypse 

Who saw the inmost glory, where enshrined 
Sat He who fashioned glory. This hath driven 



BLIND OLD M/LTOX. i6i 

All outward strife and tumult from my mind, 
And humbled me, until I have forgiven 
My bitter enemies, and only seek 
To find the strait and narrow path to heaven. 



Yet I am weak — Oh ! how entirely weak, 
For one who may not love nor suffer more ! 
Sometimes unbidden tears will wet my cheek, 
And my heart bound as keenly as of yore. 
Responsive to a voice, now hushed to rest, 
Which made the beautiful Italian shore. 
In all its pomp of summer vineyards drest, 
And Eden and a Paradise to me. 
Do the sweet breezes from the balmy west 
Still murmur through thy groves, Parthenope, 
In search of odors from the orange bowers ? 
Still, on thy slopes of verdure, does the bee 
Cull her rare honey from the virgin flowers ? 
And Philomel her plaintive chant prolong 
'Neath skies more calm and more serene than ours. 
Making the summer one perpetual song ? 
Art thou the same as when in manhood's pride 
I walked in joy thy grassy meads among 
With that fair youthful vision by my side, 
In whose bright eyes I looked — and not in vain ? 

my adored angel ! O my bride ! 

Despite of years, and woe, and want, and pain, 
My soul yearns back towards thee, and I seem 
To wander with thee, hand in hand, again, 
By the bright margin of that flowing stream. 

1 hear again thy voice, more silver-sweet 



i62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Than fancied music floating in a dream, 
Possess my being ; from afar I greet 
The waving of thy garments in the glade, 
And the Hght rustling of thy fairy feet — 
What time has one half eager, half afraid, 
Love's burning secret faltered on my tongue, 
And tremulous looks and broken words betrayed 
The secret of the heart from whence they sprung. 
Ah me ! the earth that rendered thee to heaven 
Gave up an angel beautiful and young, 
Spotless and pure as snow when freshly driven ; 
A bright Aurora for the starry sphere 
Where all is love, and even life forgiven. 
Bride of immortal beauty — ever dear ! 
Dost thou await me in thy blest abode ! 
While I, Tithonus-like, must linger here, 
And count each step along the rugged road ; 
A phantom, tottering to a long-made grave, 
And eager to lay down my weary load ! 

I, who was fancy's jord, am fancy's slave. 
Like the low murmurs of the Indian shell 
Ta'en from its coral bed beneath the wave, 
Which, unforgetful of the ocean's swell. 
Retains within its mystic urn the hum 
Heard in the sea-grots where the Nereids dwell 
Old thoughts still haunt me — unawares they come 
Between me and my rest, nor can I make 
Those aged visitors of sorrow dumb. 
Oh, yet awhile, my feeble soul, awake ! 
Nor wander back with sullen steps again ; 
For neither pleasant pastime canst thou take 



BLIND OLD MILTON. 163 

In such a journey, nor endure the pain. 

The phantoms of the past are dead for thee ; 

So let them ever uninvoked remain, 

And be thou cahii, till death shall set thee free. 

Thy flowers of hope expended long ago, 

Long since their blossoms withered on the tree : 

No second spring can come to make them blow, 

But in the silent winter of the grave 

They lie with blighted love and buried woe. 

I did not waste the gifts which nature gave, 
Nor slothful lay in the Circean bower ; 
Nor did I yield myself the willing slave 
Of lust for pride, for riches, or for power. 
No ! in my heart a nobler spirit dwelt ; 
For constant was my faith in manhool s dower 
Man — made in God's own image— an i I felt 
How of our own accord we courted shame, 
Until to idols like ourselves we knelt. 
And so renounced the great and glorious claim 
Of freedom, our immortal heritage. 
I saw how bigotry, with spiteful aim. 
Smote at the searching eyesight of the sage ; 
How Error stole bshind the steps of truth, 
And cast delusion on the sacred page. 
So, as a champion, even in early youth 
I waged my battle with a purpose keen : 
Nor feared the hand of terror, nor the tooth 
Of serpent jealousy. And I have been 
With starry Galileo in his cell — 
That wise magician with the brow serene. 
Who fathomed space ; and I have seen him tell 
The wonders of planetary sphere, 



1 64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And trace the ramparts of heaven's citadel 

On the cold flag-stones of his dungeon drear. 

And I have walked with Hampden and with Vane — 

Names once so gracious to an English ear — 

In days that never may reiurn again. 

My voice, though not the loudest, hath been heard 

Whenever freedom raised her cry of pain, 

And the faint effort of the humble bard 

Hath roused up thousands from their lethargy, 

To speak in words of thunder. What reward 

Was mine, or theirs } It matters not ; for I 

Am but a leaf cast on the whirling tide, 

Without a hope or wish, except to die. 

But truth, asserted once, must still abide. 

Unquenchable, as are those fiery springs 

Which day and night gush from the mountain side 

Perpetual meteors girt with lambent v^^ings. 

Which the wild tempest tosses to and fro. 

But cannot conquer with the force it brings. 

Yet I, who ever felt another's woe 
More keenly than my own untold distress ; 
I, who have battled with the common foe,- 
And broke for years the bread of bitterness ; 
Who never yet abandoned or betrayed 
The trust vouchsafed me, nor have ceased to bless, 
Am left alone to wither in the shade, 
A weak old man, deserted by his kind — 
Whom none will comfort in his age, nor aid ! 

Oh, let me not repine ! A quiet mind, 
Conscious and upright, needs no other stay ; 
Nor can I grieve for what I leave behind. 
In the rich promise of eternal day. 



BLIXD OLD MILTOX. 165 

Henceforth to me the world is dead and gone, 
Its thorns unfelt, its roses cast away : 
And the old pilgrim, weary and alone. 
Bowed down with travel, at his master's gate 
Now sits, his task of life-long labor done. 
Thankful for rest, although it comes so late, 
After sore journey through this world of sin, 
In hope, and prayer, and wistfulness to wait, 
Until the door shall ope and let him in. 




HERMOTIMUS. 



Hermotimus, the hero of this ballad, was a philosopher, 
or rather a prophet, of Clazomente, who possessed the 
faculty, now claimed by the animal-magnetists, of effecting 
a voluntary separation between his soul and body ; for the 
former could wander to any part of the universe, and even 
hold intercourse with supernatural beings, whilst the sense- 
less frame remained at home. Hermotimus, however, 
was not insensible to the risk attendant upon this disunion; 
since before attempting any of these aerial flights, he took 
the precaution to warn his wife, lest, ere the return 
of his soul, the body should be rendered an unfit or use- 
less receptacle. This accident, which he so much dread- 
ed, at length occurred ; for the lady, wearied out by a suc- 
cession of trances, each of longer duration than the jDre- 
ceding, one day committed his body to the flames, and 
thus effectually put a stop to such unconnubial conduct. 
He received divine honors at Ciazomenae, but must never- 
theless remain as a terrible example and warning to all 
husbands who carry their scientific or spiritual pursuits so 
far as to neglect their duty to their wives. 

It is somewhat curious that Hermotimus is not the only 
person (putting the disciples of Mesmer and Dupotet 
altogether out of the question) who has possessed this 
miraculous power. Another and much later instance is 



HERMOTIMUS. 167 

recorded by Dr. George Cheyne, in his work entitled The 
English Malady, or a Treatise on Nervous Diseases, as 
having come under his own observation ; and as this case 
is exactly similar to that of the prophet, it may amuse the 
reader to see how far an ancient fable may be illustrated, 
and in part explained, by the records of modern science. 
Dr Cheyne's patient was probably cataleptic ; but the 
worthy physician must be allowed to tell his own story : — 
" Colonel Townshend, a gentleman of honor and integ- 
rity, had for many years been afflicted with a nephritic 
complaint. His illness increasing and his strength 
decaying, he came from Bristol to Bath in a litter, in 
autumn, and lay at the Bell Inn. Dr, Baynard and I 
were called to him, and attended him twice a-day ; but \ 
his vomitings continuing still incessant and obstinate \ 
against all remedies, we despaired of his recovery. While | 
he was in this condition, he sent for us one morning : we | 
waited on him with Mr. Skrine, his apothecary. We found I 
his senses clear, and his mind calm : his nurse and several I 
servants were about him. He told us he had sent for us ( 
to give him an account of an odd sensation he had for 
some time observed and felt in himself; which was, that ! 
by composing himself he could die or expire when he pleased ; \ 
and yet by an effort, or somehow, he could, come to life | 
again, which he had sometimes tried before he sent for us. i 
We heard this with surprise ; but, as it was not to be ac- | 
counted for upon common principles, we could hardly | 
believe the fact as he related it, much less give any account \ 
of it, unless he should please to make the experiment 
before us, which we were unwilling he should do, lest, in 
his weak condition, he might carry it too far. He con- 
tinued to talk very distinctly and sensibly above a quarter 
of an hour about this surprising sensation, and insisted so 
much on our seeing the trial made, that we were at last 



1 68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

forced to comply. We all three felt his pulse first — it was 
distinct, though small and thready, and his heart had its 
usual beating. He composed himself on his back, and 
lay in a still posture for some time : while I held his 
right hand Dr. Baynard laid his hand on his heart, and 
Mr. Skrine held a clean looking-glass to his mouth. I 
found his pulse sink gradually, till at last I could not find 
any by the most exact and nice touch. Dr. Baynard 
could not feel the least motion in his heart, nor Mr. Skrine 
the least soil of breath on the bright mirror he held to his 
mouth ; then each of us by turns examined his arm, heart 
and breath, but could not, by the nicest scrutiny, discover 
the least symptom of life in him. We reasoned a long 
time about this odd appearance as well as we could, and 
all of us judging it inexplicable and unaccountable ; and 
finding he still continued in that condition, we began to 
conclude that he had indeed carried the experiment too 
far ; and at last were satisfied he was actually dead, and 
were just ready to leave him. This continued about half 
an hour. As we were going away, we observed some 
motion about the body ; and, upon examination, found his 
pulse and the motion of his heart gradually returning. He 
began to breathe gently and speak softly. We were all 
astonished to the last degree at this unexpected change; 
and, after some further conversation with him, and among 
ourselves, went away fully satisfied as to all the particulars 
of this fact, but confounded and puzzled, and not able to 
form any rational scheme that might account for it." 





HERMOTIMUS. 



"Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber? 

Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest ; 
Sleejo will bring thee dreams in starry number — 
Let him come to thee and be thy guest. 
Midnight now is past — 
Husband ! come at last — 
Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast." 



II. 



" Weary am I, but my soul is waking ; 
Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side, 
But my spirit then, its home forsaking, 

Thro' the realms of space would wander wide- 
Everything forgot, 
What would be thy lot, 
If I came not back to thee, my bride ! 



I70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

III. 
" Music, like the lute of young Apollo, 
Vibrates even now within mine ear ; 
Soft and silver voices bid me follow — 
Yet my soul is dull and will not hear. 
Waking it will stay : 
Let me watch till day — 
Faintly will they come and disappear. 

IV. 

" Speak not thus to me, my own — my dearest ! 

These are but the phantoms of thy brain ; 
Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest, 
Thou shalt wake to love and life again, 
Were thy sleep thy last, 
I would hold thee fast — 
Thou shouldst strive against me, but in vain. 

V. 

" Eros will protect us, and will hover, 

Guardian-like, above thee all the night, 
Jealous of thee as of some fond lover 
Chiding back the rosy-fingered light — 
He will be thine aid : 
Canst thou feel afraid 
When his torch above us burneth bright .-' 

VI. 

" Lo ! the cressets of the night are waning, 

Old Orion hastens from the sky ; 
Only thou of all things art remaining 
Unrcfreshed by slumber — thou and I 
Sound and sense are still, 
Even the distant rill 
Murmurs fainter now, and languidlv. 



HERML ) TIM I 'S. T 7 j 

VII. 

" Come and rest thee, husband ! " — and no longer 

Could the young man that fond call resist : 
Vainly was he warned, for love was stronger — 
Warmly did he press her to his breast. 
Warmly met she his ; 
Kiss succeeded kiss, 
Till their eyelids closed, with sleep oppressed. 

VIII. 

Soon Aurora left her early pillow. 

And the heavens grew rosy-rich and rare ; 
Laughed the dewy plain and glassy billow, 
For the Golden Go 1 himself was there ; 
And the vapor-screen 
Rose the hills be.tween. 
Steaming up, like incense, in the air. 

IX. 

O'er her husband sat lone bending — 

Marble-like and marble-hued he lay ; 
Underneath her raven locks descending, 
Paler seemed his face and ashen grey : 
And so white his brow. 
White and cold as snow — 
" Husband ! — Gods ! his soul hath passed avay ! " 
X. 
Raise ye up the pile with gloomy shadow- 
Heap it with the mournful cypress-bough ! — 
And they raised the pile upon the meadow, 
And they heaped the mournful cypress too ; 
And they laid the dead 
On his funeral bed, 
And they kindled up tlie flames below, 



172 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

XI. 
Night again was come ; but oh, how lonely 

To the mourner did that night appear! 
Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only, 
Vain repinings and unwonted fear 
Dimly burned the lamp — 
Chill the air and damp — 
And the winds without were moaning drear. 

XII. 

Hush ! a voice in solemn whispers speaking. 

Breaks within the twilight of the room ; 
And lone, loud and wildly shrieking, 

Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom. 
Nothing sees she there — 
All is empty air, 
All is empty as a rifled tomb. 

XIII. 

Once again the voice beside her sounded. 

Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone — 
" Nor by form nor shade am I surrounded, 
Fleshly home and dwelling have I none. 
They are passed away — 
Woe is me ! to-day 
Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone. 

XIV. 

" Vainly were the words of parting spoken ; 

Ever more must Charon turn from me. 
Still my thread of life remains unbroken, 
And unbroken ever it must be; 
Only they may rest 
Whom the Fates' behest 
From their immortal mansion setteth free. 



HERMOTIMUS 173 

XV. I 

" I have seen the robes of Hermes ghsten — | 

Seen him wave afar his serpent wand ; | 

But to me the herald would not listen — • 

When the dead swept by at his command, 

Not with that pale crew 

Durst I venture too — 

Ever shut for me the quiet land. 

XVI. 

" Day and night before the dreary portal, 

Phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie ; 
None of heavenly kind, nor yet of mortal 
May unchallenged pass the warders by. 
None that path may go, 
If he cannot show 
His drear passport to eternity. 

XVII. 

" Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest — 

Fatal, O Apollo, was thy love ! 
Pythian } Archer ! brightest God and bravest, 
Hear, oh hear me from thy throne above ! 
Let me not, I pray. 
Thus be cast away ; 
Plead for me, thy slave — O plead to Jove I 

XVIII. 

" I have heard thee with the Muses singing 
Heard that full melodious voice of thine. 
Silver-clear throughout the ether ringing — 
Seen thy locks in golden clusters shine ; 
And thine eye so bright. 
With its innate light. 
Hath ere now been bent so low as mine. 



i- 



174 MISCELLAXEOUS POEMS. 

XIX. 
" Hast thou lost the wish — the will — to cherish 

Those who trusted in thy god-like power ? 
Hyacinthus did not wholly perish ! 

Still he lives, the firstling of thy bower ; 
Still he feels thy rays, 
Fondly meets thy gaze. 
Though but now the spirit of a flower. 

XX. 

" Hear me, Phoebus ! Hear me and deliver! 

Lo ! the morning breaketh from afar — 
God ! thou comest bright and great as ever — 
Night goes back before thy burning car ; 
All her lamps are gone — 
Lucifer alone 
Lingers still for thee — the blessed star ! 

XXI. 

" Hear me, Phoebus!" — And therewith descended 
Through the window-arch a glory-gleam, 
All effulgent — and with music blended ; 
For such solemn sounds arose as stream 
From the Mem non-lyre. 
When the morning fire 
Gilds the giant's forehead with its beam. 

XXII. 

" Thou hast heard thy servant's prayer, Apollo ! 
Thou dost call me, mighty God of Day ! 
Fare-thee-well, lone ! " — And more hollow 
Came the phantom voice, then died away. 

When the slaves arose, 

Not in calm repose — 
Not in sleep, but death, tlicir mistress lay. 



(ENONE 



On the holy mount of Ida, 

Where the pine and cypress grow, 
Sate a young and lovely woman, 

Weeping ever, weeping low. 
Drearily throughout the forest 

Did the winds of autumn blow, 
And the clouds above were flying, 

And Scamander rolled below. 



"Faithless Paris ! cruel Paris!" 

Thus the poor deserted spake — 
" Wherefore thus so strangely leave me ? 

Why thy loving bride forsake } 
Why no tender word at parting — 

Why no kiss, no farewell take ? 
Would that I could but forget thee ! 

Would this throbbing heart might break! 



176 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

" Is my face no longer blooming ? 

Are my eyes no longer bright ? 
Ah ! my tears have made them dimmer. 

And my cheeks are pale and white. 
I have wept since early morning, 

I shall weep the livelong night ; 
Now I long for sullen darkness, 

As I once have longed for light. 

** Paris ! canst thou then be cruel ! 

Fair, and young, and brave thou art — 
Can it be that in thy bosom 

Lies so cold, so hard a heart ? 
Children were we bred together — 

She who bore me suckled thee ; 
I have been thine old companion. 

When thou hadst no more but me. 



" I have watched thee in thy slumbers, 
When the shadow of a dream 
; Passed across thy smiling features, 

Like the ripple on a stream ; 
; And so sweetly were the visions 

■ Pictured there with lively grace, 

That I half could read their import 
By the changes on thy face. 

; " When I sang of Ariadne, 

! Sang the old and mournful tale, 

: How her faithless lover, Theseus, 

\ Left her to lament and wail ; 



(ENONE. \11 

Then thine eyes would fill and glisten, 
Her complaint could soften thee : 

Thou hast wept for Ariadne — 
Theseus' self might weep for me ! 

Thou may"st find another maiden 

With a fairer face than mine — 
With a gayer voice and sweeter, 

And a spirit liker thine ; 
For if e'er my beauty bound thee. 

Lost and broken is the spell ; 
But thou canst not find another 

That will love thee half so well. 

" O thou hollow ship, that bearest 

Paris o'er the faithless deep ! 
Wouldst thou leave him on some island 

Where alone the waters weep ; 
Where no human foot is moulded 

In the wet and yellow sand — 
Leave him there, thou hollow vessel ! 

Leave him on that lonely strand ! 

" Then his heart will surely soften, 

When his foolish hopes decay, 
And his older love rekindle. 

As the new one dies away. 
Visionary hills will haunt him, 

Rising from the glassy sea. 
And his thoughts will wander homeward 

Unto Ida and to mc. 



1 7 8 M ISC ELL. i NEO US P OEMS. 

" Oh ! that hke a little swallow 

I could reach that lonely spot ! 
All his errors would be pardoned, 

.'\11 the weary past forgot. 
Never should he wander from mc — 

Never should he more depart ; 
For these arms would be his prison, 

And his home would be my heart ! ' 

Thus lamented fair Qinone, 

Weeping ever, weeping low, 
On the holy Mount of Ida, 

Where the pine and cypress grow. 
In the self-same hour Cassandra 

Shrieked her prophecy of woe, 
And into the Spartan dwelling 

Did the faithless Paris go. 





THE BURIED FLOWER. 



In the silence of my chamber, 
When the night is still and deep, 

And the drowsy heave of ocean 
Mutters in its charmed sleep. 



II. 



Oft I hear the angel voices 

That have thrilled me long ago, — 
Voices of my lost companions, 

Lying deep beneath the snow. 



III. 



Oh, the garden I remember, 
In the gay and sunny spring. 

When our laughter made the thickets 
And the arching alleys ring ! 



i8o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

IV. 

Oh, the merry burst of gladness ! 

Oh, the soft and tender tone ! 
Oh, the whisper never uttered 

Save to one fond ear alone ! 

V. 

Oh, the light of life that sparkled 
In those bright and bounteous eyes ! 

Oh, the blush of happy beauty, 
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise ! 

VI. 

Oh, the radiant light that girdled 
Field and forest, land and sea, 

When we all were young together, 
And the earth was new to me ! 

VII. 

Where are now the flowers we tended } 
Withered, broken, branch and stem : 

Where are now the hopes we cherished .'' 
Scattered to the winds with them. 

VIII. 

For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones ! 

Nursed in hope and reared in love. 
Looking fondly ever upward 

To the clear blue heaven above : 

IX. 

Smiling on the sun that cheered us, 
Rising lightly from the rain. 

Never folding up your freshness 
Save to cfive it forth again : 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 
X. 

Never shaken, save by accents 
From a tongue that was not free, 

As the modest blossom trembles 
At the wooing of the bee 

XI. 

Oh, 'tis sad to he and reckon 
All the days of faded youth, 

All the vows that we believed in, 
All the words we spoke in truth. 

XII. 

Severed — were it severed only 
By an idle thought of strife, 

Such as time may knit togettier ; 
Not the broken chord of life ! 

XIII. 

O my heart ! that once so truly 
Kept another's time and ture ; 

Heart, that kindled m the morning, 
Look around thee in the noon ! 

XIV. 

Where are they who gave the impulse 
To thy earliest thought and flow t 

Look across the ruined garden — 
All are withered, drooped, or low ! 

XV. 

Seek the birthplace of the Lily, 
Dearer to the boyish dream 

Than the golden cups of Eden, 

Floating; on its slumberous stream ; 



.82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

XVI. 
Never more shalt thou behold her — 

She, the noblest, fairest, best : 
She that rose in fullest beauty. 

Like a queen, above the rest. 

XVII. 

Only still T keep her image 
As a thought that cannot die ; 

He who raised the shade of Helen 
Had no greater power than I. 

XVIII. 

Oh, I fling my spirit backward, 
And I pass o'er years of pam ; 

All I loved is rising round me, 
All the lost returns again. 

XIX. 

Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes, 
Warmly as ye did before 

Bloom again, ye happy gardens. 
With the radiant tints of yore ! 

XX. 

Warble out in spray and thicket, 
All ye choristers unseen ; 

Let the leafy woodland echo 
With an anthem to its queen ! 

XXI. 

Lo ! she cometh in her beauty, 
Stately with a Juno grace. 

Raven locks. Madonna-braided 
O'er her sweet and blushing face. 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 183 

xxn. 

Eyes of depest violet, beaming 

With the love that knows not shame — 

Lips, that thrill my inmost being, 
With the utterance of a name. 

XXIII. 

And I bend the knee before her, 

As a captive ought to bow, — 
Pray thee, listen to my pleading, 

Sovereign of my soul art thou ! 

XXIV. 

Oh, my dear and gentle lady ! 

Let me show thee all my pain. 
Ere the words that late were prisoned 

Sink into my heart again, 

XXV. 

Love, they say, is very fearful 

Ere its curtain be withdrawn, 
Trembling at the thought of error 

As the shadows scare the fawn. 

XXVI. 

Love hath bound me to thee, lady. 

Since the well-remembered day 
When I first beheld thee coming 

In the light of lustrous May. 

XXVII. 

Not a word I dared to utter — 

More than he who, long ago, 
Saw the heavenly shapes descending 

Over Ida's slopes of snow ; 



l84 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

XXVIII. 

When. a low and solemn music 

Floated through the listening grove, 

And the throstle's song was silenced, 
And the doling of the dove : 

XXIX. 

When immortal beauty opened 
All its charms to mortal sight, 

And the awe of worship blended 
With the throbbing of delight. 

XXX. 

As the shepherd stood before them 
Trembl ng in the Phrygian dell, 

Even so my soul and being 

Owned the magic of the spell ; 

XXXI. 

And I watched thee ever fondly. 
Watched thee, dearest ! from afar, 

With the mute and humble homage 
Of the Indian to a star. 

XXXII. 

Thou wert still the lady Flora 
In her morning garb of bloom ; 

Where thou wert was light and glory, 
Where thou wert not, dearth and gloom. 

XXXIII. 

So for many a day I followed. 
For a long and weary while, 

Ere my heart rose up to bless thee 
For the yielding of a smile, — 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 185 

XXXIV. 

Ere thy words were few and broken 

As they answered back to mine, 
Ere my Hps had power to thank thee 

Eor the gift vouchsafed by thine. 

XXXV. 

Then a mighty gush of passion 

Through my nimost being ran ; 
Then my older Ufe was ended, 
And a dearer course began. 

XXXVI. 

Dearer ! — Oh ! I cannot tell thee 

What a load was swept away, 
What a world of doubt and darkness 

Faded in the dawning day ! 

XXXVII. 

All my error, all my weakness, 

All my vain delusions fled ; 
Hope again revived, and gladness 

Waved its wings above my head. 

XXXVIII, 

Like the wanderer of the desert, 

When, across the dreary sand. 
Breathes the perfume from the thickets 

Bordering on the promised land : 
xxxix. 
When afar he sees the palm-trees 

Cresting o'er the lonely well, 
When he hears the pleasant tinkle 

Of the distant camel's bell : 



1 86 MISCELLANEOUS EG EMS. 

XL. 
So a fresh and glad emotion 

Rose within my swelling breast, 
And I hurried swiftly onwards 

To the haven of my rest. 

XL I. 

Thou wert there with word and welcome, 
With thy smile so purely sweet ; 

And I laid my heart before thee, 
Laid it, darling ! at thy feet. 

XLII. 

Oh, ye words that sound so hollow 
As I now recall your tone ! 

What arc ye but empty echoes 
Of a passion crushed and gone .'* 

XLIIL 

Wherefore should I seek to kindle 
Light, when all around is gloom .'' 

Wherefore should I raise a phantom 
O'er the dark and silent tomb .'' 

XLIV. 

Early wert thou taken, Mary ! 

In thy fair and glorious prime, 
Ere the bees had ceased to murmur 
Through the umbrage of the lime. 

XLV. 

Buds were blowing, waters flowing, 
Birds were singing on the tree, 

Everything was bright and glowing,, 
When the angels came for thee. 



THE BURIED ELOIVER. 187 

XLVI. 
Death had laid aside his terror, 

And he found thee cahn and mild, 
Lying in thy robes of whiteness, 

Like a pure and stainless child. 

XLVII, 

Hardly had the mountain-violet 

Spread its blossoms on the sod. 
Ere they laid the turf above thee, 

And thy spirit rose to God. 

XLVIII. 

Early wert thou taken, Mary ! 

And I know 'tis vain to weep — 
Tears of mine can never wake thee 

From thy sad and silent sleep. 

XLIX. 

Oh, away ! my thoughts are earthward ! 

Not asleep, my love, art thou ! 
Dwelling in the land of glory 

With the saints and angels now. 

L. 

Brighter, fairer far than living, 

With no trace of woe or pain. 
Robed in everlasting beauty. 

Shall I see thee once again, 

LI. 

By the light that never fadeth, 

Underneath eternal skies, 
When the dawn of resurrection 

Breaks o'er deathless Paradise. 




THE OLD CAMP. 

WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA. 



There is a cloud before the sun, 

The wind is hushed and still, 
And silently the waters run 

Beneath the sombre hill. 
The sky is dark in every place 

As is the earth below : 
Methinks it wore the self-same face 

Two thousand years ago. 



No light is on the ancient wall. 

No light upon the mound ; 
The very trees, so thick and tall, 

Cast gloom, not shade, around. 
So silent is the place and cold, 

So far from human ken. 
It hath a look that makes me old, 

And spectres time again. 



THE OLD CAMP. 189 

III. 

I listen, half in thought to hear 

The Roman trumpet blow — 
I search for glint of helm and spear 

Amidst the forest bough ; 
And armor rings, and voices swell — 

I hear the legion's tramp. 
And mark the lonely sentinel 

Who guards the lonely camp. 

IV. 

Methinks I have no other home, 

No other hearth to find ; 
For nothing save the thought of Rome 

Is stirring in my mind. 
And all that I have heard or dreamed. 

And all I had forgot. 
Are rising up, as though they seemed 

The household of the spot. 



And all the names that Romans knew 

Seem just as known to me. 
As if I were a Roman too — 

A Roman born and free : 
And I could rise at Caesar's name, 

As though it were a charm 
To draw sharp lightning from the tame. 

And brace the coward's arm. 



19° 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
VI. 

And yet if yonder sky were blue 

And earth were sunny gay, 
If nature wore the witching hue 

That decked her yesterday — 
The mound, the trench, the rampart's space 

Would move me nothing more 
Than many a sweet sequestered place 

That I have marked before. 

VII. 

I could not feel the breezes bring 

Rich odors from the trees, 
I could not hear the linnets sing, 

And think on themes like these. 
The painted insects as they pass 

In swift and motley strife, 
The very lizard in the grass, 

Would scare me back to life. 

VIII. 

Then is the past so gloomy now 

That it may never bear 
The open smile of nature's brow, 

Or meet the sunny air 1 
I know not that — but joy is power. 

However short it last ; 
And joy befits the present hour, 

If sadness fits the past. 



DANUBE AND THE EUXINE. 

1848. 



" Danube, Danube ! wherefore com'st thou 

Red and raging to my caves ? 
Wherefore leap thy swollen waters 

Madly through the broken waves ? 
Wherefore is thy tide so sullied 

With a hue unknown to me ; 
Wherefore dost thou bring pollution 

To the old and sacred sea?" 
" Ha ! rejoice, old Father Euxine ! 

I am brimming full and red ; 
Glorious tokens do I bring thee 

From my distant channel-bed. 
I have been a Christian river 

Dull and slow this many a year, 
Rolling down my torpid waters 

Through a silence morne and drear ; 
Have not felt the tread of armies 

Trampling on my reedy shore ; 
Have not heard the trumpet calhng, 

Or the cannon's echoing roar ; 



192 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Only listened to the laughter 

From the village and the town, 
And the church-bells, ever jangling, 

As the weary day went down 
So I lay and sorely pondered 

On the days long since gone by, 
When my old primaeval forests 

Echoed to the war-man's cry ; 
When the race of Thor and Odin 

Held their battles by my side. 
And the blood of man was mingling 

Warmly with my chilly tide. 
Father Euxine ! thou remembVest 

How I brought thee tribute then — 
Swollen corpses, gashed and gory, 

Heads and limbs of slaughtered men ? 
Father Euxine ! be thou joyful ! 

I am running red once more — 
Not with heathen blood, as early, 

But with gallant Christian gore. 
• For the old times are returning, 

And the Cross is broken down, 
And I hear the tocsin sounding 

In the village and the town : 
And the glare of burning cities 

Soon shall light me on my way — 
Ha ! my heart is big and jocund 

With the draught I drank to-day. 
Ha ! I feel my strength awakened. 

And my brethren shout to me ; 
Each is leaping red and joyous 

To his own awaitins: sea. 



DANUBE AXD THE EUXIiXE. 193 

Rhine and Elbe are plunging downward 

Through their wild anarchic land, 
Everywhere are Christians falling 

By their brother Christians' hand ! 
Yea, the old times are returning. 

And the olden gods are here ! 
Take my tribute, Father Euxine, 

To thy waters dark and drear ! 
Therefore come I with my ton-ents, 

Shaking castle, crag, and town ; 
Therefore, with my arms uplifted. 

Sweep I herd and herdsman down ; 
Therefore leap I to thy bosom 

With a loud triumphal roar — 
Greet me, greet me, Father Euxine — 

I am Christian stream no more ! " 




THE SCHEIK OF SINAI. 



IN I«^0. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF FREILIGRATH. 



" Lift me without the tent, I say, — 

Me and my ottoman, — 
I'll see the messenger myself ! 
It is the caravan 

From Africa, thou sayest, 

And they bring us news of war ? 
Draw me without the tent, and quick 

As at the desert-well . 
The freshness of the bubbling stream 
Delights the tired gazelle. 

So pant I for the voice of him 
That cometh from afar!" 



THE SCHEIK OF SIX A I. 195 

II. 
The Scheik was lifted from his tent, 

And thus outspake the Moor : — 
" I saw, old Chief, the Tricolor 
On Algiers' topmost tower — 
Upon its battlements the silks 
Of Lyons flutter free. 
Each morning, in the market-place, 

The muster-drum is beat. 
And to the war hymn of Marseilles 
The squadrons pace the street. 
The armament from Toulon sailed 
The Franks have crossed the sea. 

in. 
" Towards the south the columns marched 

Beneath a cloudless sky, 
Their weapons glittered in the blaze 
Of the sun of Barbary ; 

And with the dusty desert sand 
Their horses' manes were white. 
The wild marauding tribes dispersed 

In terror of their lives ; 
They fled unto the mountains 

With their children and their wives. 

And urged the clumsy dromedary - — — 
Up the Atlas' height. 

IV. 

"The Moors have ta'en their vantage-ground, 

The volleys thunder fast — 
The dark defile is blazing 

Like a heated oven-blast. 



196 MISCELLAXEOUS POEMS. 

The Lion hears the strange turmoil, 
And leaves his mangled prey — 
No place was that for him to feed — 

And thick and loud the cries, 
Feu ! Allah !— Allah ! En avanf! 
In mingled discord rise : 
The Franks have reached the summit ; 
They have won the victory ! 

V. 

" With bristling steel, upon the top 

The victors take their stand ; 
IBeneath their feet, with all its towns, 
They see the promised land — 
From Tunis, even unto Fez, 
From Atlas to the seas. 
The cavaliers alight to gaze ; 

And gaze full well they may, 
Where countless minarets stand up 
So solemnly and grey. 
Amidst the dark-green masses 
Of the flowerinir mvrtle-trees. 



" The almond blossoms in the vale, 

The aloe from the rock 
Throws out its long and prickly leaves, 
Nor dreads the tempest's shock : 
A blessed land, I ween, is that, 
Though luckless is its Bey. 
There lies the sea — beyond lies France ! 
Her banners in the air 



THE SCHEIK OF SINAI. 19? 

Float proudly and triumphantly — 
A salvo ! come, prepare ! 

And loud and long the mountains rang 
With that glad artillery." 

VII. 

" Tis they ! " exclaimed the aged Scheik. 

" I've battled by their side — 
I fought beneath the Pyramids ! 
That day of deathless pride — 

Red as thy turban, Moor, that eve. 
Was every creek in Nile ! 
But tell me" — and he griped his hand — 

"Their Sultaun .-* Stranger, say — 
His form — his face — his gesture, man — 
Thou savv'st him in the fray } 

His eye — what wore he .'' " But the Moor 
S3ught in his vest awhile. 

VIII. 

" Their Sultaun, Scheik, remains at home 

Within his palace walls ; 
He sends a Pasha in his stead 
To brave the bolts and balls. 

He was not there. An Aga burst 
For him through Atlas' hold. 
Yet I can show thee somewhat too ; 

A Frankish Cavalier 
Told me his effigy was stamped 
Upon this medal here — 
He gave it me with others 
For an Arab steed I sold." 



198 



MISCELLANEOUS POEALS. 



IX. 

The old man took the golden coin : 

Gazed steadfastly awhile, 
If that could be the Sultaun 
Whom from the banks of Nile 

He guided o'er the desert path ? — 
Then sighed and thus spake he — 
" 'Tis not his eye — 'tis not his brow — 

Another face is there ; 
I never saw this man before — 
His head is like a pear ? 

Take back thy medal, Moor — 'tis not 
That which I thought to see." 




EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE 
KANARIS. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF WILHELM MULLER. 



I AM Constantinc Kanaris. 

I, who lie beneath this stone, 
Twice into the air in thunder 

Have the Turkisli galleys blown. 

In my bed I died — a Christian, 

Hoping straight with Christ to be ; 

Yet one earthly wisli is buried 
Deep within the grave with me— 

That upon the open ocean, 

When the third Armada came, 

They and I had died together. 
Whirled aloft on wings of flame. 

Yet 'tis something that they've laid me 

In a land without a stain : 
Keep it thus, my God and Saviour, 

Till I rise from earth as:ain ! 



THE REFUSAL OF CHARON.* 



FROi^I THE r.OMAIC. 



Why look the distant mountains 

So gloomy and so drear ? 
Are rain-cloLids passing o'er them, 

Or is the tempest near ? 
No shadow of the tempest 

Is there nor wind nor rain — 
'Tis Charon that is passing by, 

With all his gloomy train. 

The young men march before him, 

In all their strength and pride ; 
The tender little infants, 

They totter by his side ; 
The old men walk behind him. 

And earnestly they pray — 
Both young and old imploring him 

To grant some brief delay. 

* According to the superstition of the modern Greeks, Charon 
performs the function which their ancestors assigned to Hermes, 
of conducting the souls^of the dead to the other world. 



THE REFUSAL OF CHARON. 

" O Charon ! halt, we pray thee, 

By yonder little town, 
Or near that sparkling fountain, ' 

Wlicrc the waters wimple down ! 
The old will drink and be refreshed, 

The young the disc will fling, 
And the tender little children 

Pluck flowers beside the spring," 

" I will not stay my journey, 

Nor halt by any town. 
Near any sparkling fountain, 

Where the waters wimple down : 
The mothers coming to the well 

Would know the babes they bore ; 
The wives would clasp their husbands, 

Nor could I part them more." 




APPENDIX 



EXAMINATION OF THE STATEMENTS IN MR. MACAULAY S 
HISTORY OF ENGLAND, REGARDING JOHN GRAHAME OF 
CLAVERHOUSE, VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 



" Discaniiiig modern historians, 7C'/io in too many instances do not seem 
to entertain tJu slightest scruple in dealing with the memory of the dead^ 

Prefacetc Burial-March of Dundee — P. 205. 

Since the first edition of this volume was published, Mr. 
Macaulay's long-promised History of England has been 
given to the public. Without wishing in any way to detract 
from the general merits of a work which has already at- 
tained so great popularity, but. on the contrary, acknowl- 
edging with gratitude the delight I have received from its 
perusal, I must take the liberty of challenging its accuracy 
with regard to many of the details referring to Scottish 
events, more especially those connected with the proceed- 
ings which were instituted against the Covenanters. With 
the political conclusions drawn by the learned and accom- 
plished author, I have of course nothing to do : these fall 
within the sphere of private judgment ; and though I dif- 
fer from him very largely in his estimate both of men and 
measures, I am not entitled to enter into such an argu- 



THE 1 7SC0 r W "/' OF D UXDEE. 203 

ment. But the facts set forth by an historian are public 
property, and I shall now proceed to examine the charges 
which Mr. Macaulay has brought against Lord Dundee, 
and the authorities upon which those charges have been 
founded. 

With reference to the proceedings in the west of Scot- 
land, during the year 1685, Mr. TVIacaulay says: "Those 
shires in which the Covenanters were most numerous were 
given up to the license of the army. With the army was 
mingled a militia, composed of the most violent and prof- 
ligate of those who called themselves Episcopalians. Pre- 
eminent among tiie bands which oppressed and wasted 
these unhappy districts were the dragoons commanded by 
James Graham of Claverhouse. The story ran that these 
wicked men used in their revels to play at the torments of 
hell, and to call each other by the names of devils and 
damned souls. The chief of this Tophet on earth, a sol- 
dier of distinguished courage and professional skill, but ra- 
pacious and profane, of violent temper and of obdurate 
heart, has left a name which wherever the Scottish race is 
settled on the face of the globe, is mentioned with a pecu- 
liar energy of hatred." 

These are hard words : let us now see how they are 
justitied. The name which has been Jeftby " the chief of this 
Tophet on earth '' is at all events not that which has been 
set forth by Mr. Macaulay in his History. There never 
was any such person as jfamcs Graham of Claverhouse. We 
know indeed of one James Grahame who was conspicuous 
in Scottish history, and his name has ere now been exposed 
to as much calumny and vituperation as is still lavished 
on his gallant relative ; but loyalists venerate him as the 
great Marquess of Montrose. John Grahame of Claver- 
house we know also, and men speak of him as the Viscount 
of Dundee. But of Mr. Macaulay's James Graham vve 



204 APPENDIX. 

know nothing ; neither has that name, as applied to Claver- 
house, a place in any accredited history save his own. 

It may appear trivial to insist upon a mistake, which, 
however, has been perpetuated through several editions ; 
but it is not without its importance. No man really fa- 
miliar with the history of Scotland could have committed 
such a blunder ; he might just as well have talked of the 
good Sir Joshua Douglas, or of Tobias Randolph, Earl of 
Moray. And, therefore, in repeated instances, when Scot- 
land or the Scots are mentioned, we find Mr. Macaulay's 
assertions at variance with the ordinary records of history. 
Take, for example, his sta*:ement that " the Scottish peo- 
ple " had " butchered their first James in his bed-chamber," 
which is just about as correct as if we were to say that the 
people of France butchered Henry IV., because that mon- 
arch was assassinated by Ravillac, or that the British na- 
tion approves of regicide because a maniac has fired at the 
Queen ! Surely Mr. Macauley, before exerting his rhetoric 
to blacken the character of so eminent a personage as 
Lord Dundee, might have taken the trouble to consult some 
record of the peerage for his name. 

Mr. Macaulay is pleased to stigmatize Claverhouse by 
using the epithet "rapacious." This is altogether a new 
charge, and for it he ha^ not vouchsafed the slightest author- 
ity. Cruel, bloody, and profane are epithets with which we 
are familiar ; writers on the Covenanting side have used 
them over and over again ; and if the narratives upon which 
they proceed, and which many of them conscientiously be- 
lieve, were authenticated, they are unquestionably justified 
in doing so. But rapacity is, I repeat, a new charge. The 
worst foe of Claverhouse never yet hinted that there was 
anything mean or sordid in his disposition. No instance 
of bribery can be alleged against him ; he levied no con- 
tributions ; and with every opportunity within his reach of 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUXDEE. 205 

amassing a large fortune* he died in comparative poverty. 
I am certain that no man really acquainted with Scottish 
history, whatever be his political or traditional opinions, 
will gainsay me in this ; and as this particular charge has 
been brought forward without a shadow of authority to 
support it, I can only express my regret that an author 
who can write so well should be so reckless in the choice 
of his epithets. 

The " profanity " imputed to Claverhouse deserves a 
few words. So far as I can discover, the charge is founded 
upon certain expressions said to have been used by him 
immediately after John Brown, the carrier of Priestfield, was 
shot. If used, the charge is amply proven. I shall presently 
have occasion to consider the historical vouchers for this 
remarkable story, upon which so great stress has been 
laid, and to state my grounds for maintaining that it is 
utterly unworthy of credence. In the mean time, and as 
to the general charge, I shall content myself by quoting 
the words of a witness who was personally acquainted 
with Dundee, and whose testimony is liable to no other ex- 
ception, save what may be cast upon him in his capacity 
of a gentleman and a Jacobite. "His lordship was so nice 
in point of honor, and so true to his word, that he never 
was known once to break it. From this exactness it was 
that he once lost the opportunity of an easy victory over 
Mackay in Strathspey, by dismissing Captain Forbes ; who, 
meeting the two troopers sent by the Lord Kilsyth, not 
only discovered that intelligence, but the neighborhood of 
the Highland army, as I have formerly related. This is 
the only real error chargeable in his conduct, while he 
commanded in this war. But this is the more excusable, 
that it proceeded from a principle of religion, whereof he 
was strictly observant ; for besides familv worship per- 
formed regularly evening and morning at his house, he re- 



2o6 APFI'.XDIX. 

tired to his closet at certain hours and employed himself 
in that duty- This I affirm upon the testimony of several, 
that lived in his neighborhood in Edinburg, where his 
office of Privy Councillor often obliged him to be ; and par- 
ticularly from a Presbyterian lady who lived long in the 
story or house immediately below his lordship's, and who 
was otherwise so rigid in her opinions that she could not 
believe a good thing of any person of his persuasion, till 
his conduct rectified her mistake."* 

As for the general morality of the dragoons, I do not 
feel myself called upon to prove that they were faultless 
patterns of virtue. I shall not aver, as Mr. Macaulay has 
done of the Puritans, " that in that singular camp, no riot 
was heard, no drunkenness or gambling was seen." I 
believe that austerity was never yet the prevailing charac- 
teristic of any bai rack, and I should be sorry to overstate 
my case by random laudations even of the Scottish I^ife 
Guards. But when we are gravely told that tliese soldiers 
"used in their revels to play at the torments of hell, and 
to call each other by the names of devils and damned 
souls," one's curiosity is certainly excited. The pastime 
is fortunately not a common one ; it was not recommended 
in the Book of Sports, which gave such exceeding olTence 
to the Puritans ; and the nomenclature alleged to be em- 
ployed would imply an intimate knowledge of Demon- 
ology far from usual with the soldiery of that period. I 
look to Mr. Macaulay's note for his authority, and I 
find it appended in the shape of the venerated name of 
Wodrow. 

English readers can hardly be supposed to know what 
manner of man this Wodrow w\as, whom, in preference to 
any other chronicler, Mr. Macaulay has thought fit to fol- 
low with reference to that period of Scottish history. It 

* Memoirs of Sir Eiot'it Cameron of Locheill. 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 207 

may therefore be proper, very shortly, to give a brief ac- 
count of his writings, style, notions, and credibility. 

Robert Wodrow, minister at Eastwood, is tolerably well 
•known to Scottish antiquaries as the author of two works — 
, the History 0/ the Chui-ch of Scotland, and the Aiuhrta, or 
Materials for a History of Remarkable Providences, mostly 
relating to Scotch Ministers and Christians. He was born 
in 1679, was consequently a mere child at the time of the 
Revolution, and gave his History to the world in 1721. 
That History, according to his own account, was compiled 
partly from existing documents, and partly from the nar- 
rative of persons who had orally communicated with the 
author ; and a most extraordinary history it is, in every 
sense of the word. 

Born in a credulous age, Wodrov/ was endowed with a 
power of credulity which altogether transcended bounds. 
He has not unaptly been called the Scottish Aubrey, though 
■ Aubrey by the side of Wodrow would almost appear a 
skeptic. The Romish miracles sink into insigniiicance 
compared with those recorded by Mr. Macaulay's pet au 
thority. But for the numerous, though possibly uninten 
tional profanities, and the grossness of some of the anec- 
dotes which are scattered over its pages, the Analccta 
would be pleasant reading. We learn from Wodrow how 
Elizabeth Kennedy, sister to Hugh Kennedy, Provost of 
Ayr, being extremely ill of stone, declined submitting to a 
surgical operation, and how the calculus was miraculously 
dissolved at the intercession of a prayer-meeting assembled 
in her house. We read of corpses sitting up in bed, announc- 
ing to the terrified mourners the judgments of another 
world ; of Mr. John Campbell of Craigie, minister, who 
had an interview with the devil — not, however, unj^rofit- 
ably, for he thereby escaped eating a poisoned hen for 
supper ; of rats which were sent as special warnings to the 



2o8 APPENDIX. 

Reverend Mr. David Williamson ; of the ghost of a barber 
which appeared to the Reverend Mr. William Leslie ; of a 
gifted horse in Annandale, which could cure tlie king's evil ; 
and of a thousand similar instances of ludicrous supersti- 
tion. These anecdotes are not confined to private individuals 
— for persons of note and name are made to figure in the 
pages of Wodrow. Take as an example the following mor- 
ccau of history, gravely narrated of Archbishop Sharpe : 
' At another time, Archbishop Sharpe, presiding in the Privy 
Council, was earnest to have Janet Douglas brought before 
that board, accusing her of sorcery and witchcraft. When 
she was brought, she vindicated herself of that alleged 
crime ; declaring, though she knew very well who were 
witches, yet she was not one herself, for she was endeav- 
oring to discover those secret hellish plots, and to counter- 
mine the kingdom of darkness. The Archbishop insisted 
she might be sent away to the King's plantations in the 
West Indies. She only dropt one word to the Bishop : — 
' My Lord,' says she, ' who was with you in your closet on 
Saturday night last, betwixt twelve and one o'clock?' upon 
which the Bishop changed his countenance, and turned 
black and pale, and then no more was said. When the 
Council rose up, the Duke of Rothes called Janet into a 
room and inquired at her privately ' who that person was 
that was with the Bishop ? ' She refused at first ; but he 
promising upon his word of honor to warrant her at all 
hands, and that she should not be sent to America, she 
says, ' My Lord, it was the meikle black devil ! ' " 

This is in reality a mild specimen of Wodrow ; but it 
may suffice to show the mental constitution of the man. 
Against his fairness I shall make no charge, though Mr. 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, in his notes appended to Kirkton's 
History, has, I think, incontestably shown, from Wodrow's 
existing manuscripts, that he purposely garbled, or at 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 



209 



least omitted to quote, such parts of the correspondence of 
the Archbishop of St. Andrews as would have effectually- 
refuted some of the calumnies then current against that 
unfortunate prelate. At present, I merely look toWodrow 
as Mr. Macaulay's informant ; and I find, on referring to 
the History, that the following passage is founded on. 
" Dreadful," says Wodrow, " were the acts of wickedness 
done by the soldiers at this time, and Lagg was as deep as 
any. They used to take to themselves in their cabals the 
names of devils, and persons they supposed to be in hell, 
and ivith whips to lash one another as a jest upon hell. But 
I shall draw a veil over many of their dreadful impieties I 
meet with in papers written at this time ! '' It is hardly 
worth while to remark that this passage does not, in the 
slightest degree, refer to the troops under the command of 
Claverhouse, but to the militia or local force which was 
raised by Grierson of Lagg. This story is specially told of 
Grierson by Howie in Biographia Scoticana — a work to 
which I allude simply for the purpose of showing against 
whom the legend was directed. For any authentic histor- 
ical information we shall search that Apocrypha in vain. 
So much for Mr. Macaulay's accuracy in applying the ma- 
terials of his veracious authorit}^ ; but surely the absurdity 
of such stuff renders refutation unnecessary ? Mr. Macau- 
lay, however, goes beyond Wodrow, even in minuteness, 
for in a subsequent paragraph he particularizes the very 
names which were used, as those of Beelzebub and Apoll- 
yon ! He might with equal propriety have adopted 
the phraseology of Ancient Pistol, and gravely informed us 
that the Scottish mode of military accost was, " How now, 
Mephostophilus ? " 

We next arrive ac the story of John Brown, which I am 
particularly anxious to expiscate. This tale is usually 
brought forward as the crowning instance of the cruelty of 



2IO APPENDIX. 

Claverhouse ; it has repeatedly formed the subject of ro- 
mance and illustration ; and authors of no mean power 
have vied with each other in heightening the horror of its 
details. Some of the grosser fables regarding that disturb- 
ed period have lost their hold of the popular belief — for 
exaggeration may sometimes be carried so far as entire- 
ly to neutialize its purpose. But the Priestfield tragedy is 
still an article of the peasant's creed ; and, as it has hith- 
erto been allowed to pass without examination, it has fur- 
nished an overwhelming reply to those who deny the au- 
thenticity of the mass of Covenanting tradition. I am not 
ashamed to own that I have a deep regard for the memory 
of Lord Dundee — a regard founded on the firm belief in 
his public and private virtues, his high and chivalrous 
honor, and his unshaken loyalty to his sovereign. But 
those feelings, however strong, would never lead me to 
vindicate an action of wanton and barbarous cruelty, or 
even attempt to lessen the stigma by a frivolous or dishon- 
est excuse. No cause was ever effectually served by mean 
evasion, any more than it can be promoted by unblushing 
exaggeration or by gross perversion of facts. The charge 
has been distinctly made, and I now propose to examine 
the authority upon which it is founded, as gravely and mi- 
nutely as though it concerned the character of the living, 
and not merely the memory of the dead. Mr. INIacaulay 
shall speak for himself : — 

" John Brown, a poor carrier of Lanarkshire, was, for 
his singular piety, commonly called the Christian Carrier. 
Many years later, when Scotland enjoyed rest, prosperity, 
and religious freedom, old men, who remembered the evil 
davs, described him as one v-ersed in di\ ine things, blame- 
less in life, and so peaceable that the tyrants could find no 
offence in him, except that he absented, himself from the 
public worship of the Episcopalians. On the first of May 
hj was cutting turf, when he wa'^^ seized bv Claverhouse's 



THE \TSCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 211 

dragoons, rapidly examined, convicted of non-conformity 
and sentenced to death. It is said that even among the 
soldiers it was not easy to find an executioner, for the wife 
of the poor man was present. She led one little child by 
the hand ; it was easy to see that she was about to give birth 
to another ; and even those wild and hard-hearted men, who 
nick-named one another ]]eelzebub and Apollyon, shrank 
from the great wickedness of butchering her husband be- 
fore her face. The prisoner, meanwhile, raised above him- 
self by the near prospect of eternity, prayed loudly and fer- 
vently as one inspired, till Claverhouse, in a furv, shot 
him dead. It was reported by credible witnesses, that 
the widow cried out in her agony — 'Well, sir, well ; the 
day of reckoning will come ; ' and that the murderer replied 
— 'To man I can answer for v\'hat I have done ; and as for 
God, I will take Him into my own hand.' Yet it was 
rumored that even on his seared conscience and adaman- 
tine heart the dying ejaculations of his victim made an im- 
pression that never was effaced." 

Such is Ml'. Macauluy's statement — well-written, simple, 
and affecting. Wodrow is the sole authority upon which 
he founds his narrative, and it is fair to say that he has 
deviated but slightly from that chronicle except in one ma- 
terial point. Woiinno docs fiof profess to specify upon what 
charge Brown was examined and condemned. When Mr. 
Macaulay says that he was " convicted of non-conformity," 
he speaks without any text ; and I shall presently have 
occasion to show that his assumption is radically wrong. 
But, as he substantially adopts the tale of Wodrow, it is 
necessary to go back to that writer's sources of information. 
The execution of John Brown is said to have taken 
place on the ist May, 1685. The revolution occurred in 
1688 ; and Lord Dundee fell at Killiecrankie on the 27th 
July, 1689. Wodrow's History was first published in 1721, 
exactly thirty-six years after the alleged murder. 



212 APPENDIX. 

These dates are of the utmost importance in considering 
a matter of this kind. The Episcopalian party, which adhered 
to the cause of King James, was driven from power at the 
Revolution, and the Episcopal Church proscribed. No 
mercy was shown to opponents in the literary war which 
followed : every species of invective and vituperation was 
lavished upon the supporters of the fallen dynasty. Yet, 
for thirty- tJiree years after the Rciwhition, the details of this 
atrocious murder were never revealed to the public I Nowhere 
in print or pamphlet, memoir, history, or declaration, 
published previously to Wodrow, does even the name of 
John Brown occur, save once, in the Cloud of Witnesses — 
a work which appeared in 17 14 ; and in that work no details 
are given, the narrative being comprehended in a couple 
of lines. I have searched for it amidst all the records of 
the so-called martyrology, but cannot find a trace of it 
elsewhere, until the Reverend Robert Wodrow thought fit 
to place the tale, with all its circumstantiality, in his History 
How, then, came Wodrow to know anything about the 
murder of John Prown ? He could have had no personal 
knowledge or recollection of the circumstance, for he was 
not quite six years of age at the time when it is said to 
have occurred. He has not offered one scrap of evidence 
in support of his allegation, and merely leaves it to be in- 
ferred that he had derived the story from that most un- 
certain of all sources, tradition. Even at the hands of the 
most honest, cautious, and scrupulous chronicler, we should 
hesitate to receive a tale of this kind ; but from Wodrow, who 
is certainly entitled to claim none of the above adjectives 
as applicable to himself, who will take it ? No one, I 
should 4-iope, whose prejudice is not so strong as to lead 
him to disregard the most ordinary verification of evidence. 
Claverhouse had enemies enough to insure the circulation 
of such a damning tale, supposing it to have been true, 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 213 

I'ong before he had lain for two-and-thirty years in his 
grave. He was not without eulogists, whose tribute to his 
memory was as gall and wormwood to their opponents, and 
in whose ceeth, most assuredly, the details of such a das- 
tardly and unprovoked murder would have been cast. Yet 
no man charged him with it. More than a generation 
passed away — the two Kingdoms had been united, and 
Mar's insurrection quelled — before the miracle-mongering 
minister of Eastwood ventured, upon no documentary 
authority at all, to concoct and publish the story which Mr. 
Macaulay has adopted without a scruple. 

After what I have said, it may fairly be asked, whether 
the whole of this story should be considered a mere myth 
or fable hatched from the brain, or palmed upon the easy 
credulity of Robert Wodrow, or whether there are any 
grounds for believing that it is at least founded upon fact ? 
Tothiil should reply, that, from other testimony, the charac- 
ter and complexion of which I shall immediately analyze, it 
appears to be true that John Brown of Priestfield, or Priest- 
hill, did actually suffer by military execution, but that the 
same testimony utterly contradicts Wodrow, and his follower, 
Mr. Macaulay, in ever)'- important particular relative to the 
details. Mr. Macaulay may not have known that such testi- 
mony ever existed, for even the most painstaking historian 
is sure to pass over some material in so wide a field ; 
nevertheless, since the point has been mooted, it may be a 
satisfaction to him to learn that his version of the story has 
long ago been repudiated in essciitialihus by the most popular 
work that ever emanated frofn the Covenanting printing- 
press. 

Patrick Walker, packman and publisher at the Bristo 
Port of Edinburgh, was concerned at a very early age in 
the Scottish troubles. In 1682, he and two other Cove- 
nanters were present at the death of one Francis Gordon, a 



214 



APPEXDIX. 



volunteer in the Earl of Airlie's troop, who, it seems, was 
shot through the head. Walker, in his own account of 
this exploit, first published in 1727, cautiously abstains 
from indicating the exact perpetrator of the deed, but 
leaves the glory thereof to be shared among the triumvirate. 
The sum of his confession amounts simply to this — that 
he, Gordon, " got a shot in his head out of a pocket- 
pistol, rather fit for diverting a boy, than killing such a 
furious, mad, brisk man ; which, notwithstanding, killed 
him dead." He was, moreover, says Walker, " seeking 
his own death, and got it." For this affair Walker was 
imprisoned, and sentenced to transportation, but made his 
escape, and, after various vicissitudes, set himself down 
in his old age to compile the Memoirs of the Cove- 
nanters. The first of these tracts did not appear until after 
VVodrow's History was published, and intense is the con- 
tempt expressed by the persecuted packman for the slip- 
slop of the fair-weather minister, whom he accuses of 
jDOsitive dishonesty. " I wish him," says Walker in his 
Vindication of Cam:ron, " repentance and forgi\-eness for 
what unaccountable wrongs he has done by his pen to 
the Testimony, and to the names of Christ's slain witnesses 
for the same. For myself I am easy ; my tongue is yet in 
my head and my pen in my hand; and what I have to say 
upon that head for myself, and those with me, will run 
faster and further than he has feet to go. I am reflected 
upon for my not giving Mr. Wodrow better information. 
Answer. — Before his History came out, when I heard of 
his manuscripts going from hand to hand among the Long- 
heads (I knew it would be patched up according to the 
backsliding spirit of the day), I desired the Rev. Mr. 
James Webster to give me account when he came to his 
house, that I might have a short conversation with him. 
Mrs- Webster told him my desire. He answered, he de- 



-!- 



THE ITSCOUXT OF DUNDEE. 215 

pended on the records of that time." In the same work 
he characterizes Wodrow's statement as " lies and ground- 
less stories ; " and, moreover, piously expresses a wish 
" that Mr. Wodrow's well-wishers would pray for him, that 
he may come to himself and be of a right mind, who has 
been so lavish of his misrepresentations and groundless 
reflections." Such is Walker's opinion of the authenticity 
of Wodrow's History, though his remarks are of course 
principally du'ected to misrepresentations of the champions 
of the Covenant, But they are useful as showing his im- 
pression of the intrinsic value of the work. 

Walker's best and earliest tract is the Life of Ptdcii. This 
originally appeared in 1724, and is still widely circulated 
among the peasantry of Scotland. It is a strange mixture 
of earnestness and superstition ; sometimes rugged and 
even coarse in its style, and yet at times rising to a point 
of real though homely pathos. Peden, the subject of the 
memoir, was an mtercommuned minister, whom the Cove- 
nanters asserted to have been endowed with miraculous 
prophetical powers. He was concerned in the insurrection 
of Pentland, and sentenced to banishment, but liberated 
by the leniency of the Government ; notwithstanding 
which, he relapsed into his old courses, became the active 
agent of rebellion, and so notorious that he was expressly 
marked for capture. Of his frequent interviews with the 
devil, his gifts of second-sight and divination, and his pow- 
er of casting out unclean spirits, I shall say nothing here. 
Walker faithfully records at least a hundred such instances, 
which are sufficient to entitle Peden to take rank beside 
.•\pollonius of Tyana. He appears, however, in actual 
flesh and blood connected with the tragedy of John 
Brown. 

Walker's narrative commences thus : — " In the beginning 
of Mav, 1685, he (Peden) came to the house of John Brown 



f 



2i6 APPENDIX. 

and Isobel Weir, whom he had married before he last went 
to Ireland, where he stayed all night ; and in the morning, 
when he took his farewell, he came out at the door, say- 
ing to himself, ' Poor woman, a fearful morning, ' twice 
over — ' a dark misty morning ! ' The next morning, be- 
tween five and six hours, the said John Brown, having 
performed the worship of God in his family, was going 
with a spade in his hand to make ready some peat ground, 
the mist being very dark, knew not until bloody cruel 
Claverhouse compassed him with three troops of horses, 
brought him to his house, and there examined him." Walk- 
er, like Wodrow, is silent as to the nature of the charge. 
Then comes the sentence — " his wife standing by with her 
child in her arms, that she had brought forth to him, and 
another child of his first wife's ; " and the execution is thus 
narrated — '" Claverhouse ordered six soldiers to shoot him ; 
the most part of the bullets came upon his head, which 
scattered his brains upon the ground." 

Such is Walker's account of the matter, forty years hav- 
ing in the mean time intervened ; and whether strictly cor- 
rect or no, it entirely alters the complexion of the case as 
stated by Mr. Macaulay. Instead of John Brown being 
one '■ in whom the tyrants could find no offence except 
that he absented himself from the public worship of the 
Episcopalians," we find him in intercourse with a man who, 
whatever might be his spiritual gifts, was a notorious out- 
law and a rebel ; the whole romance about the reluctance 
of the soldiers vanishes ; the '' wild and harddiearted men " 
are at once amenable to the authority of their commanding 
officer: and the alleged murder dwindles into a case of 
military execution. 

Of the two histories, that of Walker is unquestionably 
most likely to resemble the truth. He professes to have 
the details from the wife of Brown, whereas Wodrow gives 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 217 

us no manner of authority at all. There are, however, 
suspicious circumstances even in Walker's narrative, which 
might be noticed. For example, in the original edition of 
his pamphlet, he states that the first person who came to 
Mrs. Brown, while she was watchhig by her husband's body, 
was " that old singular Christian woman in the Cummer- 
head, named Elizabeth Menzies, three miles distant ; " but 
in the third edition, this matron, retaining her residence 
and encomium, is transmuted into "Jean Brown." Surely 
these two cannot signify one and the same person, and we 
are therefore left in doubt which particular female was the 
witness. But it is not worth while going into minute criti- 
cism. Walker, who was a far more determined Covenan- 
ter than Wodrow, was not likely to have understated the 
circumstances, neither does he profess to know upon what 
charge Brown was examined. I think, however, I can 
throw some light ujDon this person's political delinquencies : 
and, strangely enough, my authority is derived from an 
official document which will be found in the Apj^endix to 
Wodrow. 

"John Brown of Priestfield, in the parish of Muirkirk," * 
figures in the list of fugitives appended to the Royal 
Proclamation of 5th May, 1684. The list is of those who 
had been regularly cited as rebels in arms, or resetters of 
rebels, but who had failed to appear. John Brown, there- 
fore, had been outlawed a year before his death, and cer- 
tainly for a very different offence than that of " absenting 
himself from the public worship of the Episcopalians." 

* In order that there may be no caviUing about the identity of the name 
or designation (for the place of Brown's residence has been variously 
printed as " Priestfield, " " Priesthill, " and " the Preshill " ), I subjoin 
the exact words of Wodrow, in his account of the execution. " I may 
well begin with the horrid murder of that excellent person, John 
Brown of PrieslfielJ, in the parish of Muirkirk by Claverhoiise, the 
first of this month. " 



2i8 APPENDIX. 

Undoubtedly it was considered, ii: tlie eye of the law, an 
offence to attend armed conventicles, where fanatical and 
mtercommuned preachers wrested texts from Scripture into 
encomiums on sedition, treason, and murder: that, how- 
ever, was a very different thmg from non-attendance upon 
the curate. Wodrow acknowledges thai Brown " had been 
a long tune upon his hiding in the lijlds, " a circumstance 
surely irreconcilable with his entire consciousness of inno- 
cence, but easdy explained on the ground that he was 
already a rebel and an outlaw. To say that he was tried 
and sentenced for non-conformicy is to hazard an assertion 
not only without foundation, but in the very teeth of history. 
I maintain — and I know that I am borne out by incontro- 
vertible proof — that, at the time in question, there was no 
manner of persecution exercised \\\ Scotland against any 
body of men whatever, on account of their religious tenets. 

Mr. Macaulay, whilst dilating upon the harsh usage of 
the Covenanters, never once affords us a glimpse of the 
opposite side cf the picture. His object is to show that 
James YII., immediately on his accession to the throne, 
commenced a relentless religious persecution ; and accord 
ingly, he ignores the position of affairs in Scotland dur- 
ing the List six months of the reign of Charles II. I have 
examined very minutely the original records of the Privy 
Council preserved in the public archives of Edinburgh, and 
these, taken in connection with Fountainhall's explanatory 
Diaries^ furnish ample proof that the charges brought 
against King James are without foundation. I propose 
very shortly to inquire into this matter. 

Charles II. died 6th February, 16S5. Let us see what 
was the state of the kingdom towards the close of the pre- 
ceding year. 

In September, 1684, the southern and western shires were 
so turbulent that the Privy Council found it necessary to 



THE \7SC0UXT OF DUNDEE. 219 

issue four special commissions of Justiciary for tliose dis- 
tricts alone. " In the month of June last," says the Royal 
Proclamation of 22:] July, "about two hundred armed 
rebels have presumed, to the great contempt of our author- 
ity, to march openly through several of the said shires for 
may days together, threatening the ortb.odox clergy and 
murdering our soldiers ; and have at last, when they found 
It convenient, disappeared, being certainly and undeniably 
reset by the Kihabitants of those shires, without sufficient 
diligence done by the sheriffs and inhabitants of the said 
shires, either for dissipating them, or for discovering their 
resetters, and bringing them to justice." Wo'^ far those 
special commissions succeeded in repressing crime may be 
judged of by the following events : — 

' 20?"/; Nov. 16S4. — The news came this morning to Edin- 
burgh that some of the desperate phanatiques had last 
night fallen upon two of the Kings Life-Guards, viz., 
Thomas Kennoway and Duncan Stewart, who were lying 
at the Swyn Abbay, beyond Blackburn, in Linlithgowshire, 
and murdered them most barbarously. This was to ex- 
ecute what they had threatened in their declaration of war. " 

" \2tJi Dec. 1684. — News came to the Privy Council 
that the wild phanatiques had fallen in upon one Peirson, 
minister at Carsphairn in Galloway, a great dilator of them, 
and zealous of rebuking them in his Sermon^,, and killed 
him. They ridiculously keep mock courts of justice, and 
cite any they judge their inveterate enemies to them, and 
read probation, and condemn them, and thereafter murder 
them. " * 

Some of the murderers of Mr. Peirson were afterwards 
taken and shot. They also have been elevated to the rank 
of martyrs. The epitaph of one of them, Robert Mitchell, 

* Fountainhall's Historical A'^otes 



2 20 APPEiXDIX. 

is printed among the inscriptions at tlie conclusion of tlie 
Cloud of Witnesses. 

On the 2Sth of January thereafter, the Privy Council 
was informed that Captain Urquhart, and several of his 
men, had been waylaid and murdered in Wigtownshire.* 

These specimens may serve to show the temper of the 
Covenanters about the close of 16S4. Next, as to the al- 
leged fiery persecutions of James, " which," says Mr. 
Macaulay, " waxed hotter than ever from the day on which 
he became sovereign." That day was the 6th of February, 
and on the 26th of the same month he issued a full pa7-don 
and indemnity to all offenders below the rank of heritors 
(with the exception only of those who were actually guilty 
of the murders of Archbishop Sharpe, Mr Pierson, and 
two others), and that clogged with no other condition than 
the taking of the oath of allegiance. The proclamation 
was published on the 2d of March, and on the 14th the 
I'rivy Council ordered all prisoners whatsoever to be set 
at liberty, " upon their adjuring the fanatical declaration 
of war, and likewise solemnly giving their' oaths never to 
rise against his Majesty or his authority." Surely never 
yet was persecution inaugurated by such liberal measures 
as these ! It is right to observe, that the reader will fail to 
discover the smallest mention of them in the pages of Mr. 
Macaulay. 

In less than ten days after this jail-delivery, the dis- 
turbances began anew. On the 24th of March, the " Lords 
of his Majesty's Privy Council being certainly informed 
that a number of desperate rebels have the boldness and 
confidence openly to go up and down the shire of Ayr, and 
other adjacent shires and places, and to enter houses, take 
away arms and provisions at their pleasure, without any 
notice taken of them either by the heritors or commons, to 

* Kccordi of tlie Privy Council in General Record Office, Edinburgh. 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 221 

the great affront of his Majesty's authority," commissioned 
Colonel JamesDouglas to proceed to the disaffected districts, 
with full powers to repress the disorders. The commission 
was signed on the 27th by the whole members of the Privy 
Council who were present, "except Claverhouse " — a re- 
markable exception, specially noted, to which I shall pres- 
ently refer. Of the same date, a letter from the Privy Council 
was forwarded to the Earl of Dumfries, sheriff of Ayr, re- 
questing mimediate particulars, as it appeared that his 
lordship's house had been one of those which v. ere ran- 
sacked. 

Douglas seems to have entered into his functions with 
zeal, but not to have been altogether successful. The in- 
surrection continued to increase, and on the 21st April, 
General-Lieutenant Drummond, Master-General of the 
Crdnance, was appointed Commissioner and Justiciar in 
the southern and western shires, with plenary powers. 
The Parliament of Scotland did not meet until two days 
afterwards. 

These insurrections had their origin in a deeper cause 
than religious dissent or local turbulence. Mr. Macaulay, 
who confidently says that "there was no insurrection in 
any part of our island on the ist May," probably consider- 
ing the Ayrshire rising as a mere sportive demonstration, 
has a note in refutation of the editor of the Oxford edition of 
Burnet, who supposes that John Brown might have been 
mixed up with the designs of Argyle. He says that Ar- 
gyle was at that date in Holland. True ; l?uf he sailed for 
Scot/and on the 2d, and the Privy Council had been aware 
of his designs as early as the 21st April. On that 
day they ordered 1200 Highlanders to be sent into the wes- 
tern shires, "upon rumors of fears of Argyle's landing ; " 
and Drummond, in his commission, was empowered to 
take those Highlanders under his command. On the 28tb 



2 22 APPEADIX. 

an Act was framed for putting the whole kingdom in a 
posture of defence, expressly on account of Argyle ; and 
on the last of that month John Campbell of Succo was ar- 
rested for treasonable correspondence with that infatuated 
nobleman. Nor can there be a shadow of a doubt that 
the disturbances in the west were connected with the medi- 
tated landing. 

Is, then, the conjecture of the editor of Burnet so ex- 
ceedmgly extravagant ? I do not think so. How came 
John Brown, as Wodrow says, to have been " a long time 
upon his hiding In the fields ? " He was free by the in- 
demnity unless indeed he had refused the oath of allegiance, 
or committed some subsequent act which put him beyond 
the pale of the law. In the report of a committee of the 
Privy Council, made on the loth of March, I find the fol- 
lowing entry: — '■ John Brown, an old man, in the fugitive 
roll, refuses the allegiance, and so ought not to have the 
benefit of the indemnity." If this be the same person with 
the carrier of Priestfield, he was at that time a prisoner, 
and therefore must either have made his escape, or, having 
taken the oath, subsequently joined the rebels ; in either 
of which cases his hiding in the fields is intelligible enough, 
and so also is his summary execution when arrested. But 
in no way can it be shown that he suffered on account of his 
religious tenets ; and it is very well worthy of observa- 
tion that the Act against Conventicles, which has been so 
much abused, was not passed by the Scottish Parliament 
until several days after the date in question. Let the can- 
did and impartial reader compare these dates, circum- 
stances and evidences, with the narrative of Mr. Macaulay, 
and I have little fear of his arriving at the same conclu- 
sions with that eloquent historian. 

It seems to me, therefore, quite clear that John Brown 
was executed as a rebel. He may be considered a martyr 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 



223 



in the same sense as Hacksloun of Rathillet and Robert 
Mitchell, who had imbrued their hands in the blood of the 
Primate of St Andrews and of the minister of Carsphairn, 
or as the rebels who adhered to the atrocious Declaration 
of Sanquhar ; but I cannot see what other claim he has to 
the title. He was fugitated the year before ; he had either 
refused or had forfeited the benefit of the indemnity ; he* 
was trafficking with a notorious outlaw ; and he is admit- 
ted to have been in hiding within six weeks after the indem- 
nity was proclaimed. All this, at least, is patent and 
proven ; and it is utterly inconsistent with his innocence, 
even if we should stretch charity so far as to suppose that, 
during those six weeks, he did not join one of those armed 
bands of rebels who were then perambulating and plundering 
the country. The aggravations, which constitute the ro- 
mance of the story have been already disposed of. Patrick 
Walker, the stancher Cameronian of the two, gives Robert 
Wodrow the lie direct. 

This note has already extended to such a length, that I 
am really unwilling to add a word more on the subject, ■ 
But the duty which I have undertaken compels me to state 
my belief that Grahame cf Claverhouse had no share what- 
ever in repressing the disturbances previous to the landing 
of Argyle, and that he was not present at the execution of 
John Brown. Tradition of course is against me ; but when 
I find no articulate voice uttered by tradition until after the 
expiry of thirty years, I am not disposed to give much weight 
to it as an accessory, tar less to accept it as reasonable evi- 
dence. My reasons are as follows : — 

Claverhouse was superseded in his military command by 
Colonel James Douglas, brother of Queensberry, who was 
then High Treasurer. The district assigned to Douglas 
was that of Ayr, the shire in which John Brown resided ; 
and Claverhouse, being of equal military rank, did not serve 



224 



APPEXDIX. 



under him, as is apparent from the records of the Privy 
Council, the meetings of which he attended daily until the 
month of April. These records refute many of the scan- 
dalous tales propagated by Crookshank and others, who 
depict Claverhouse as pursuing Covenanters in Nithsdale, 
at the very moment when he was performing his duties as 
a councillor in Edinburgh. Fountainhall tells us distinctly 
that he was superseded out of spite : he refused, in his 
character of Privy Councillor, to sign the commission, and 
in April he was actually omitted from the new list of coun- 
cillors. The following is FountainhalTs entry on that oc- 
casion : — " 9th April, 1685. — A Privy Council is held where 
a new commission is produced, omitting none of the former 
Privy Councillors but only Colonel Grahame of Claver- 
house, because of the discords we have formerly marked 
between him and the High Treasurer and his brother. The 
pretence was, that, being married in my Lord Dundonald's 
phanatique family, it was not safe to commit the King's 
secrets to him." The spite went even further ; for a few 
days afterwards an Act of Council was passed, says Foun- 
tainhall, " in odium of Claverhouse ; " and I cannot find, in 
the records of that year, the slightest trace of his having 
been reinstated in command. It is possible, however, that 
he might have been called out to serve under General Drum- 
mond, but not surely upon such duty as this. John Brown 
must have been a very desperate rebel indeed, if a Colonel 
of the Guards, who moreover had been a Privy Councillor, 
and three troops of horse were despatched specially to 
arrest him ! If he was no rebel at all, but merely a non- 
conformist, the thing becomes absolutely incredible ; for, 
setting aside the indemnity, can any one believe that, in 
the face of Argyle's meditated landing, and in the midst of 
actual insurrection, the troops were leisurely employed in 
ferreting out and shooting such of the peasantry as did not 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 225 

worship with the curates ? But vulgar creduhty owns no 
limits, and the lapse of thirty years is sufificient to account 
for the currency of the grossest fable. 

In estimating the character of the dead, some weight 
surely ought to be given to the opinions of contemporaries. 
I shall cite merely one — that of Dr. Monro, the Principal 
of the University of Edinburgh. At the inquiry instituted 
before the visitors in 1690, it was alleged, as a special ar- 
ticle of dittay against the Reverend Principal, that he had 
rejoiced at the victory of Lord Dundee. After calling upon 
his accuser for proofs, the Doctor thus boldly expressed 
himself : — " The libeller does not think I rejoiced at the 
fall of my Lord Dundee ! I assure him of the contrary ; for 
no gentleman, soldier, scholar, or civilized citizen, will find 
fault with me for this. I had an extraordinary value for 
him ; and such of his enemies as retain any generosity will 
acknowledge he deserved it. " * But what generosity, or 
even what regard for truth, could be expected from crea- 
tures of the stamp of Wodrow ! 

Mr. Macaulay is peculiarly unfortunate on the subject of 
Claverhouse. I say nothing of omissions, though I must 
take the liberty, with all deference, of remarking that it does 
appear somewhat strange to find in a history, which re- 
counts with such minute satisfaction every instance of deser- 
tion from the losing side, no notice taken of the loyalty of 
of those who remained steadfast to their oath and their 
allegiance. In an impartial narrative one might expect to 
see recorded the gallant advice and chivalrous offer made 
by Lord Dundee to his sovereign, before the latter quitted 
his dominions ; for surely devotion to a losing cause is 
worthy of honor and respect, and should receive it from a 

* Presbytt'riatt Inquisition : as it was lately practised against the Pro- 
fessors of the College of Edinburgh. Aug. and Sept. 1 690. Licensed Nov. 
12, 1691. London. 



2 26 APPENDIX. 

generous antagonist. But historians undoubtedly have the 
privilege of omitting what they please, and, in this instance, 
it is sufficient to note that the privilege has been exercised. 
But Mr. Macaulay has thought fit to introduce Claver- 
house once more as an actor in an historical acene, upon 
which he has obviously bestowed much pains and con- 
sideration. In his account of the capture and execution 
of Argyle, he says : — " The victorious party had not for- 
gotten that, thirty-five years before this time, the father of 
Argyle had been at the head of the faction which put Mon- 
trose to death. Before that event, the houses of Graham 
and Campbell had borne no love to each other, and they 
had ever since been at deadly feud. Care was taken that 
the prisoner should pass through the same gate and the 
same streets through which Montrose had been led to the 
the same doom. The troops who attended the procession were 
put under the comma?id of Clavcrhonse, the fiercest and stern- 
est of the race of Graham. '' Now, although the father 
of Argyle had not only been the head of the faction which 
put Montrose to death, but had, along with his son, the in- 
conceivable meanness to be present at and exult over the 
indignities offer jd to that illustrious nobleman, it is not 
true that any chief of the gallant house of Grahame stooped 
to imitate such a base example. Claverhouse was not 
there. The melodramatic effect of the narrative may suf- 
fer in consequence, but at present we are dealing w'th his- 
tory, not romance. The impression which every one must 
receive from the foregoing passage is, that Claverhouse was 
expressly selected for the duty, in order to give a passing 
triumph, not only to a political cause, but also to a family 
feud. Knowing well how eagerly former Covenanting 
writeis have fastened upon any pretext for casting a stain 
upon the memory of Claverhouse, it was with considerable 
astonishment that I found this statement brought forward 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 227 

for the first time by Mr. Macaulay. His mistake, in tliis 
instance, is precisely of a piece with the others. Wodrow 
quotes, accurately enough, the substance of the order given 
for bringing Argyle into Edinburgh — an order which was 
modified \\\ its execution. That order bears that he shall 
be "carried up the st1"eet bareheaded, with his hands tied 
behind his back, in the midst of Captain Graham's guards." 
This is enough for Mr. Macaulay, who forthwith pounces 
upon the name, and, without stopping to consider who Cap- 
tain Graham was, at once degrades Claverhouse from his 
rank and identifies him with the officer of the guard ! Hence 
the rhetorical flourish about the houses of Graham and 
Campbell. The real fact is, that the officer in question was 
Patrick Graham, a younger son of Inchbraikie, Captain of 
the Town-Guard of Edinburgh, whose duty it was, irre- 
spective of politics orfamily feuds, to be present at all pub- 
lic processions within the boundaries of the city. His name 
is given at full length in the original order ; but Mr. Macau- 
lay, having previously substituted James for John, now sub- 
stitutes John for Patrick, and consequently is enabled to 
in\ est 'he scene with an additional, though spurious, hue 
of inteest. Besides this, I am afraid that Mr. Macaulay's 
account of the procession must be considered as chiefly 
drawn from his own imagination. Argyle was by no means 
exposed to the same indignities which had been heaped 
upon Montrose, neither was his doom the same. Fountain- 
hall, in his Historical Observes, a work of great interest, ex- 
pressly tells us that although it was mentioned that, "when 
the Marquis of Montrose was brought up prisoner from 
the Watergate in a cart, this Argyle was feeding his eyes 
with the sight in the Lady Murray's balcony, in the Can- 
ongate, with her daughter, his lady, to whom he was newly 
married, and that he was seen smiling and playing with 
her ; " yet that, " seeing we condemn these rebellious tymes 



2 28 APPENDIX. 

for their rigor our great men (not knowing their own des- 
tinies) thought it no fit copy to imitate — so that all that was 
done to him was, that he was met at the Watergate by Cap- 
tain Graham's Company and the hangman, who tied his 
hands behind his back ; and so, the hangman going before 
him, he came up on his feet to the castle, but it was casfen 
to be so late that he was little seen. " It was ten o'clock at 
night before he arrived at the Watergate, so that any at- 
tempt at ignominious parade was avoided. 

I cannot see how the memory of Argyle can be served 
by such exaggerations. Whatever may have been his pre- 
vious delinquencies, — and they were neither few nor trivial, 
— he met his fate like a brave man, nor did any action of 
his life become him so much as its close. Claverhouse, who 
would joyfully have encountered him in the field, was infi- 
nitely above the littleness of triumphing over his political 
opponent. The debt due to the memory of the great Mon- 
trose was fully discharged when his loyalty received its 
posthumous tribute, and the remains of the hero were de- 
posited by his assembled kindred in the tomb. It is 
a pity that Mr. Macaulay, since he must needs take 
Wodrow as his authority, has not adhered closely to his 
text. In matters which were evidently public, and there- 
fore open to common contradiction, Wodrow seldom ven- 
tures to wander far astray from the truth; it is in the alleys 
and by-lanes of narrative that we detect him at his 
habitual sin. Mr. Macaulay, however, does not always 
follow Wodrow, but sometimes misinterprets Fountainhall. 
Thus, in his account of the riot at Edinburgh on 31st Jan- 
uary, 1686, he somewhat magniloquently tells us that "the 
troops were already under arms. Conspicuous among 
them were Claverhouse's dragoons, the dread and abhor- 
rence of Scotland." His sole authority for saying so is the 
entry in Fountainhall's diary that " the Counsell calls in 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 229 

the assistance of Grame's company." Not a dragoon was 
there. Patrick Graham, as usual, was summoned with the 
Town-guard ; but that body, in the hands of Mr. ]\Iacaulay, 
multiplies like Falstaff' s famous corps in buckram, and is 
ready on the shortest notice to figure as horse, foot or 
artillery. 

I trust that, in the foregoing remarks, I shall not be con- 
sidered as having transgressed the proper bounds of cour- 
tesy. Mr. Macaulay's reputation is deservedly so high, 
that every statement ..emanating from his pen is liable to 
the minutest scrutiny ; and I will fairly confess that I was 
not sorry to find the scattered charges which, from time to 
time, have been brought against Lord Dundee, concentra- 
ted in his volumes, since an accusation from so power- 
ful a quarter must necessarily give some additional interest 
to the defence, however feebly executed. It is from no de- 
sire for controversy, far less from a wish to run counter to 
popular opinion, that I have approached this subject, I am 
fully aware of the weight of prejudice against which I have 
to contend ; but from that prejudice I appeal to the truth 
as I gather it from the records of the time. Some of my 
critics, for whose indulgence otherwise I am grateful, have 
been pleased to express themselves wrathfully at finding 
any terms of eulogy applied in the text to an individual in 
the belief of whose misdeeds they have been hereditarily 
and traditionally trained. If my belief upon such points 
were the same with theirs, they should have had no cause of 
complaint. It is because I am convinced, after a most 
careful examination of the evidence — not of historians only, 
but of such as is afforded by the materials which ought to 
be the foundation of authentic history — that a large por- 
tion of our national annals has been most unfairly pervert- 
ed, and that party strife and polemical rancor have com- 
bined to distort facts and to blacken names for mere tern- 



230 



APPENDIX. 



porary and ephemeral purposes ; — it is for these reasons 
solely that I have ventured to go back into the disputed 
battle-fields of the past. I have taken nothing for granted, 
but have given an authority for each separate allegation ; 
and if those authorities should happen to prove hostile to 
the preconceived impressions of any one, surely I am not 
to blame. If anything I have said can be proved to be 
wrong, I am willing to admit the error, but not otherwise. 
Meanwhile, I am not ashamed of having attempted to de- 
fend the memory of Lord Dundee against unjust accusa- 
tions, not preferred during his lifetime, but invented at a 
later period ; for I can see no generosity, far less justice, 
in the conduct of those who are obstinately deaf to all evi- 
dence in favor of one whom they have been previously 
taught to condemn, and who seem to think that the strength 
of their own cause depends upon the amount of obloquy 
which they can contrive to heap upon its opponents. 



THE END. 





0014 






